Thanks to Daniel Cyran for asking me about mornings and breakfast and routines and posting some work by myself and others HERE at Stark and Saint Redwood
God
up late
with silent
babies
You liked
a song
and people
died.
Art doesn't exist.
The world's
not old.
No one can dream about god. Water can’t be touched. Time makes itself into a seed that grief never plants. Death fails as a garden but not as death. Cheekbone, ransom, kneecap. I was sick for awhile and now want to love things.
Insects eradicate loneliness
all the time.
The flood was never god's.
(
)
Angels choose ghosts for god. I’m lonely when you’re here and not when you’re not. For emphasis, don’t read this if you’re not my brother. If you are, don’t read this aloud. I’ve never been to a strange place. My son writes a story about a cannibal eating the mother of the antichrist. I want to fix the devil. The story goes deeper than I want it to. I drink all day. My sons are alive. My sons tell me they can be alive in their sleep. I want to test god. I give a pill to Adam and he waits for my signal. When Adam dies, he dies thinking his stomach is where it should be. My longing isn’t ready.
nothing
finds nothing
to adore
adores
it all
for Mark Lanegan
Ohio is prose
bruised
roadkill
and Ohio
is the tugged-at
insides
of a videocassette
and Ohio
has one
good wrist
and one
blood-shy
nose
And there are lakes
in Ohio
that dream
their fish
and the fish
still die
But it's okay, dream
dream it's
okay
Don't
provoke
longing
for Mark Lanegan
Snow grief
and star
grief
so rarely
die
during the removal
of thunder's
stomach
that I thought
twice
and killed
with no help
from god
a red
fly
on a blue
train
