These poems were originally published at Cosmonauts Avenue in summer 2017.


frogs of lead who bust up your skinny lip
by agreement, the paradisiac fields
excised, the empty spaces removed
from our carapace. a better future for the region.

international niceness studies. shuffle up, smaller fry,
smallfrei. they haven’t given us songs to sing to one another
in a while.
the utopia of security is an “all-inclusive security structure”—a “full currency union, unified financial markets,”
protea and herons

I looked at it like
a dead thing
Full of voices.

I looked at it like
a dead thing
Hears a voice.


I looked at her and thought, somewhere far off there’s a storm in me
somewhere I’m a clean shady room that kisses me again and again the storm
comes up, bringing up old leaves from the fall of that place
the sky in four windows goes from blue to blue, in that house it’s Christmas again, in us it’s clean and spring is passing by, a femme
shadow who walks into the body and out again, a brief showdown in the sodium-brightened glades of the ribcage, our close friend says
my skull is decked from within today, my halls spangled
my flesh in ribbons, means I can’t but celebrate you
and our lives which are the truest thing, animal-flower
o numinous, do you know your backside is covered in mud again? this year, our season, she wakes up old stains


I think I got married at 7 in the morning
with something left to rest in the trees
and the beds damp from a hot night of scrubbing.
later I realized the rotten sun is everywhere. when it boiled my street
one among many others down to the parkway
and siphoned our locations into the belly of the whale. Now we live in the ecosystem. Here are the things I lost: your country, your sweater, your hair after a long sleep in the desert
that was our bed, then our room. then I could only give directions
in desert

O baby statesman
you may turn any full column of fire
into an opal stain on the sand
any column of fire
into an ant