quiet supports
backing stress held in tendons

your nerve endings
forever acting under pressure

file issue after issue
beneath tissue wound taut

connect it all
accept bodily condition



strain sugar through my throat
sweet nothings mean nothing
even in the deepest tone
we are trying to resonate
a little more
a little more out of silent cords
whet your tongue
and never deliver your course
but regurgitate every feeling sparingly
into starving mouths
I feel sick
downing granulated plosives
rupturing my stomach

[post-summer] three

it has been a long summer
and you are asking if
I can walk through sound with you
and you are asking if
you can walk through sights with me
it would be a pleasure you see
I have not seen enough
and I could get more familiar
with the gallery rhythm
my eyes are absorbing everything all at once
so I need to hold onto you
for a moment if you don’t mind
expressionist dizzy me
latching onto
abstract steady you
what is a canvas
but a space to fall into
the snare of brushstrokes
from endless angles
begged for you
to fall into its embrace
I stood back in white noise
to be engulfed or to escape
knowing what these works were capable of
you stepped forward
looking for beauty to destroy you


in candlelight, his shape defies still form.
warmth taps dormant tongues into fleeing words
extending withheld emotion.
trembling in fabric-kissed skin,
he held the artist’s hands to find stability in his touch.

uncertain whispers beg the question.
heavy head flickering against his chest,
he folds under his own stillness.