The Ghost in the Machine

It’s true, the light does stay on when the door is closed. You can sit inside the fridge all day, turn blue against the white [and low fat] milk, until your feet fall asleep, and you breathe the last of the breathable oxygen. Perhaps the light stays on so you can see what it’s like

Ultimatum

How often had she breathed her last, only to discover it was not her last breath at all? Was it to be the penultimate one then? Or even the antepenultimate breath? Or worse, to find out it’s to be the ultimate breath all right, but in an infinite series of breaths, for breathing never stops

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Echoed

A shout shouted,  a gunshot shot— each echo echoes the plea for a new silence. A car crashes, a flight turns to violence. A belief is lost in the night, the night itself, a state of fright, an act of active imagination, a kind of poet’s poem sung to music— music that you used to

Another Apollo and Otter

Oh, John. What you said. Life changing. This new poem respectfully dedicated to John Stevens, who gave it life. * Apollo and Otter gave birth to a two-headed fish in the sea  as they emerged from the sea. That sand is the mother, they thought— which left four eyes to shine above the tide’s high water mark—two

Apollo and Otter

Apollo and Otter kill a two-headed fish in the sand as they emerge from the sea. That sand is the killer, they think— which leaves four eyes to shine above the tide’s high water mark—two mouths to feed. A perch, Apollo calls it. A sea perch. But there are two fishes dead, Otter says. There