Came a man whose business
my work, even though I’ve learned
one. And in cardboard
nor what will come of this gas
you your bellows in a pine box
From The Room In Which I Work (Omnidawn 2017)
AT A GATHERING
On occasion my distant windows
at which there is no vanishing,
I crawled over the first sill like a draft,
and realized that beyond each pane
of bigger and bigger years. In some rooms
if we had stood alone, or stood elsewhere
to close the windows behind me, and some
wandering through rooms with books
and men were preparing its set, stringing up
as yours at the party, where you shook
Originally published in LIT magazine
THE LONG AFTERNOON OF A LOGICIAN
I was in my own troubled custody,
I was particulate and nothing
version of my mind would come next
with new chance, the new greed
I had been in the middle of a triptych,
searched in vain for prosthetic selves.
through a shock of nightjars. I had been
Where I say imprecision I mean
beyond the cherries and nightjars.
Originally published in CROWD magazine
THE ROYAL COURT AT STORM KING
By speaking physics we are speaking
glue. From what wonder
is one way we sit beneath these trees,
for our history, which, for once,
So share the same shade.
But we’ll take paltry, a proof
super strings, the standard model,
where experiments exhaust their logic
projector. That tractor won’t take out
will keep up despite its clop.
edit the sun, the wind begets a chill
and we have a Hudson to cross.
perfect for us to practice on.
collide out on the continent, dry heat
a model that, no matter the future
Originally published in Gulf Coast magazine
Pan for gold with a butterfly net
We lost the little ones
they drew around them
In the stream
or like trout
from that dominion
why we came
than stems for our pleasure
published in Black Anecdote, a Poetry Society of America chapbook
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