His Father, The Watchmaker

“my soles pressed flat against the dirt, but / I am no more than a disruption to balance.”

Cold and Alive

“I drag this corpse of / memory, this console of flesh to which / I assign no purpose…”

Of Sunshine

“droopy and distorted like clocks on a beach.”

Kneeling on a Jagged Cut

“but I know that it must / be my own hand because it’s on my own throat.”

Fell by the Way

“and melt down into it, my tongue into / my teeth, my flesh into the asphalt trappings…”