Silver fingerprint

You can shout at the stars
Stomp on the ground

No answer

The tall pines seem to be sneering at you
But they’re not

Always caught
Between the past and the now
Like a fingerprint taken from a corpse.


The Girl in the Rocks

I remember the girl in the rocks
When she asked, “Does he eat lots?”
Meaning my dog-a big dog but scared nonetheless
Turned my head hard on its head.
Her tongue rolled the words
Like a snail rolls its shell
Smooth and polished
Against the breakers
High tide, gray rocks, and white legs
Just the figure halating light,
A simple question.



Mon âme

Mon âme
Must be the grinner of the catacombs.
I let it crumble
It lets me crumble
Dry here on the mudflats
Among the rocks and little tufts of grass
That spring up suddenly
As if from nowhere.


After the storm

I did not know
I did not know
When the rain world rain or hail
Hail, pelting the garden
With 9 mm snow
Now the sky is black and silent after the storm
The flowers got a beating
Slowly the ice melts and runs down the street
Under the bright lights
A yelp of delight
Someone is taking pictures



A Story of Sex

Clumsy and incongruous,
The lover has no time for prose,
Attaches like a remora to a seahorse
As they rock
Back and forth
The waves roll up on the beach
It’s cold
As a helicopter flies overhead
The pale bluffs
Shielded by her coat.



The branch keeps hitting the window in the storm,
Knocking against the glass
Pressing up a shattered face in the dark.



I would fuck the world (if it existed)
Dive into all its intricacies (if I’m real)
Shameless and unstopped,
Open the door or just walk through it
Fall off the edge into the sea.



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