• rhinoceros

    My experience begins in an ordinary dream state. I sit cross-legged, as a child, in the front yard of a childhood home. Before me, hovering a few inches above the ground, is a thick pane of glass extending forever to the sides and to the sky. My hands are stretched under the glass, playing with…

  • abyss

    “Abyss!”They cryWith their vibrant voicesFrom their HomesIn their Lives. “Abyss!”They penWith their unchained handsFrom their HomesIn their Lives.

  • win

    Oh how the Sun Will set to a timeless night The day we win.

  • love

    so many words raised up on high love sees them too

  • floor 14

    I arrive at an apartment complex for an inspection. I text the agent, who buzzes me up. “Come to floor 14.” A metal stairwell ascends a towering glass atrium. At each landing it turns back on itself, however the landings are not connected to the walls of the atrium – they offer no access to…

  • survivors

    The survivors – soon to be –Their outlines, chalked in ashen black… And underneaththe wordsthe primitive arcsthe dashessomehow bleeding in our minds (tethers to Timeanchors destined to lie limpbehind the onward-pressing Ocean) on the long wall we madefrom the Earth we barely knew was usthe dry red wall that we became (as if we deservedthat…

  • speech sculpture

    (Ed: This one starts out humdrum, but becomes fascinating.) I’m on a country property with a large house and many other large outbuildings. There are many tradespeople working around the property. I enter the house to use the toilet. As I stand at the toilet I realise that raining down from the leaky bathroom ceiling…

  • anchor

    this anchorsewn from clear ocean(for what else is there?)is a devil wave a tether to a formtoo primitive it shackles the gracious waves at the surface makes devils of them, too they hoist upand toss downbut none may take me with themonwards and even the boldest wavewill not carry one back

  • Red

    A closed glass cylinder. Rounded ends. Long. Narrow. Perhaps ten centimetres long and one millimetre thick. Floating. Smooth and sparkling. In a barely lit space. Filled. A tiny volume of bright red liquid. Part of me watches from one side. Another aspect of my mind is an infinitely thin, invisible circular plane. Centred just inside…

  • untitled.

    One more imagined wastelandA soft white blanket of snowOver slick new asphalt.