Tag Archives: non-fiction-fiction



                  it would be possible

      to create a crystal

                          breaking an equivalent symmetry
                  in time the same way
     that a crystal breaks
symmetry in space
—he thought

mulling over—musing—

turning fresh pages just to hear it—

feel the nice folds go out of and into their place

                   the first time it was theorized

we ate them like eggs from the rooftops

          Higgs’ hairy hand
reached out of whiteout
                conditions to give up
         this punctured spacesuit of alarm bells
  you could touch into a warm mute

                  the time regularity
would be somehow dormant
                         hidden from view like a dragnet
                                               adding a little energy
                                                       would unveil its


this solved the paradox of perpetual motion
                     (see you tonight)

Theta Theta

and you gasped
then bolted out
the other door

it’s happening again

no one saw
our slough beneath
this river breathes
empty ellipses
out of calcium
as a marker

you held your
flames in the dark
flickering darkness
will we make it
through the night
the soot streaked
in lines from the sill

whose black eyes clash
like the otherverses
wanting in
has no name

a new scar on the arm, a 
concertina eyelashes 
the blood brain barrier’s

it already had us
by the when
and by the why

was it peach lipgloss
that formed the seal
between when I said
you looked familiar

and the glass bottle
of biome on the counter

was it a playground
was it a gym

was it akin to
the flow of spiral

was it when
you held your
flames that they
could see us

Gypsy trash

I’m one of the ones
They came in from the road

This fire burns
on invisible ink

A slow
quiet panic
as blinking lights . .

Words that no longer mean—
words used the way they don’t seem—

Who lost their face
in the dark
casting shadows
lit up by the fire
burns on invisible ink—

Who went out of the way
to let go
even though
there was no undoing
our inheritance—

A steady drumbeat swings—

Who looked down the well—
who fell—
small droplets cling
to a magnifying glass

no, that
wasn’t it

Who dries up and hangs from the sun—

Who spoke in moths—

Who picks up the symbols
and shuffles them
into little boxes of misunderstanding—

Who left behind
Durga’s in the sand—

Who could no longer wait
at the bus stop speakerbox
disconnect neon highlighter