A green finch…

∞ A green finch takes a liking to our Callistemon | already cozied up to sun & rain. The finch | itches its beak | nibbles insects & pollen dusts its feathers when it scoots from branch to branch— from this distance the blooms resemble lobster pincers | provide ample cover & keep the famished…

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Let’s call it a sacrifice

A new poem. Photograph by me. Let’s call it a sacrifice It must have worked, whatever killed it : the drought has lost its footing; except now, the once named, being dead, is just that —or a sacrifice, sufficient enough to sate the appetite of a god. i don’t believe in such fads, but many…

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Rant Soliloquy

i’ve been mostly off the radar this week, so much work & perhaps a bit too much booze & trying to oscillate between Foucault’s The Origin of Things (which is just now starting to make more sense after 160 pages that have taken a month to read), David Foster Wallace’s Consider the Lobster, which is…

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Ikea Soliloquy

i wrote this to stave my boredom whilst inside the belly of the Ikea Leviathan. So this poem has been to hell & back. Ikea Soliloquy The magpies won’t exculpate us even though we scared off all their competitors & they alone occupy the cherry blossom on the brink of renewal — they’d do well…

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the heron

the heron appeared on Robert Okaji’s O at the Edges first time around, but i feel it was perhaps buried under so much waffling prose of mine in ebullient response to Robert’s questions, which was immensely therapeutic & enjoyable, but now i think i’d like to give the poem some space to breathe, accompanied by…

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