The heating bill reflects as much on naked studs
as phantom property lines. Last night’s thuds
refuse to affect those cheerful ear-muffed faces
street-parking out front on alternate months.
Semi-Detached
Genre: Poetry
Virginia’s Moth
My limbs have known Bukowskis, drunk and smoking cloves
staring casually at my body thinking: no story here but movement.
This, when I practically glisten in stasis under the heft
of their swagger. My diurnal muscles dimmed
and dampened by articulate fingers
fixing me in glib oil.
The Wrong Place
Sharper now, slicing meat.
A curled mammal clawing,
crawls to the pit of my shoulders,
gnawing bone branches.
Permeable
BLOOD EAGLE
Icarus
I did not see him fall. Time slowed, time stopped
As he hung from the bar like a branch
And dropped