Big Eye

Makeshift trees
Conceal the emptiness of space.
I am removed from nature’s skin
As crust from an eye.
Too often I have peered
Over my back fence for
A better view

No one should see that much
We are startled giants
With weak hearts

Space rolls over its
Grassy base
There is no room for
A thing that watches
Yet a big eye cleans
The back of the world
With lashes


the globe gingerly turns
on an axis she would not
have picked for herself
if given the choice

she has a crush on the
black hole
that calls her sometimes

something about that
event horizon
feels so remarkably other

her identity is unknown to her
not even the sun will tell
her she is gifted

The Last Painting

Labored seeing –
The artist as his canvas drifts away.

The IV hums a little.
They only let him squeeze
The morphine button every five minutes.

4 out of every 5 minutes
Is a dog gnawing on his body.

He begs…
One more painting and I will go
Without complaint.

Less of You

The advertisement promised diligent bread.
The sort of thing that will eat for you

While you bask prideful in a fashionable,
Contemporary hunger.

The world loves you as it loves itself.

That’s why it wants less of you, Dear.
Of course.

Don’t doubt.
There is a new job coming,
To be done by someone else.


Justice is a poor best friend,
Sticking knives in me
Where I can see them.

I reach for the cookie
He slaps me gently
I smell the desiccated marsh

He holds my hand on rollercoasters.
It wouldn’t be fair
For me to die when I
Have been so innocuous

But the tide looked
Innocuous and the
Fish is dead.

I am not a reed in the marsh.

When he takes me home
He always takes the
Long route


Help the baby in cashmere
This is a heinous place
To be born.

I have been in the spider’s
Web a long time,
Most of me liquified.


She keeps a little of
Me alive
For amusement

There are bitter stones
With no water to
Wear them away

Find a garden somewhere
Lay him down beside the bees
Name him Adam.