this whetstone
solitude sharps
imaginate blades
'til i can continue
to carve selves from
white page wombs

my window inhales
tousled treetops all
windtangled with a
somewhere juniper's
stowaway smoulder

i exhale slow-turn
tentative bathroom
dances mirror squish
stretch evaluations a
steam cloud coated
beast with star eyes

elegant where it's
only ever unbearable
pluck good words from
blind men with these
birdflight wanderings
of my woman palms

condensate until
drop by drop those
dew poems slip
sleepy from almost
autumn's ceiling

& i'll never
know how he
puts up with me
blathering
about poetry

this day of
dallied
drudgeries

dusk draws close the
door of deep hours
the black barricade

hung on hush hinges
which opens only in
those lonely moments

at either end of each
day the door runed
with ancient symbols

of solitude barring
way to wee spaces
for breath & being

to write
a stunning
fingertip
wordslide

to want
beauty but
be too busy
telling truth

to read
others 'til
a poet ego
rushes out
& slips
thru cracks

to pool
from pens
my little
words like i
got no style
got no soul

to keep
on digging
expression
-less hole

sunk somewhere
in this bermuda
triangle of time
'tween 2 & 5 pm

recents on regular repeat

running by ryan downey

mistake by middle kids

listening in by dr. dog

stuck in orbit by what so not feat. buoy

through the night by vancouver sleep clinic

everybody wants to be famous by superorganism

banking on
possibilities
of profound
forgetfulness

i move to gather in
to my empty ribcage
these minute stone

words which clatter
new ground from his
boulders of thought

oh these deep un-
attainable fleck
hazel half-closed

eyes & today my
body hung in birch
groves like a bell

tolled roads full
of distance & tear
after tear traced

into rivers towing
battered sighs to a
blood-harbour sea

a sub mariner
bed dive & this
periscope of
weekend hours

he comes to me
when armor's down
& walls are weak

when emptiness
eats so why wouldn't
i reach for him? but

awake life happens
in armor surrounded
by daily distractions

'til night & day
are two ends that
will never meet

poles i cannot
possibly reconcile

our scars are
too temporary

we're always
one slip away

from back
to bleeding

utterly uncontrollable
heart-content vicegrip
attempts full futile
attempted nonetheless

came to
burn me
but i was
already
aflame

woke up before my
alarm from a dream

where i was beating
a gigantic shark to
death in an underwater

library with a copy
of great expectations

so what the dickens
does that mean?

a void dance of
a v o i d a n c e

all these acts
of avoidance
which'll catch
up & kill me
eventually

night air still smokechoked
& our mountains are merely
a suggestion of dark shapes
in smog these indeterminate
contours quicksand silhouettes

let me stay
awhile

'til i feel
like i can feel
again

'til i can
slip out
of these

covers

& pull back
on a me who

doesn't
need you

a good day
for disappearing
in the trees

we could've
done so much
more damage

me with this
chip on my
shoulder &

him with his
axe to grind

collateral damage
a hidden surcharge
of self-preservation

awake before it
i watch daylight
invade my shrunk
& maudlin bedroom
a hundred cyan
slices through thick
slats of blinds

i'm cliffhung
at the edge
of his hollow
in this bed

sincerity drowns his
brownblack eyes &
suddenly unmasked

a loathing & regret
barrels through that
sincerity ready to

railroad me under a
train's weight of my
own tracktied guilt

wrench free wrench
away hit my shoulder
hard against a wall

behind me hit hard
his chest hard push
away with fists hot

familiar tears boil
over lashes over blind
eyes this scene swims

i'm done pinning
that arm behind
your back you

default push every
one away with
i'm done being

amputee being left
with one-arm attempts
at care expression

you crippled me
his voice splits
before we began

words hiss
through grit
teeth match
frenetic pace
of dark eye
scrambles
for my own
to attend

saturday surrendered
to this black hole bed

slow spread
limbs search
chilled bed
sheet stretches

lazy curves
of morning lounge
repositions

bring me better
reasons for this
breathlessness

ashthick heavy air
heatborn holds heat
closer holds heat
against burnt earth
burns earth again
traps waves reflects
burning earth burns
sky summer sun
scorches earth ash

up a nextdoor mountain
top i & my binoculars
through a sootglow
smokescreen gape
as tongues of flame
race through aspens &
convert each douglas fir
into an obelisk explosion

midnight air choked
with crickets & thousands
of acres up in smoke

a reclamation
of detachment

rituals of pre &
post to disentangle
these too dangerous
poetic inclinations

unfolded & i
give myself back

to an acrid wildfire
wind which clawed
its way into this
room while i slept

exhausting
efforts at
indifference

bleak nights of
burrowed
sleeplessness

he casts lines
of smoke in
sleepy interlude

his midnight trawl
through these
calm silences of
post pitch & yaw

in dragged lures
he crosses a
length of vessel
& she leans
toward him

with the hint
of fresh wind
forecast from
her leeward roll

spit fire
scream

carve bleak
detachment
around both
eyelids

but

blunt each
point of tooth
& talon

layer a lie
over curled lips

lose all color
& walk into
work another

empty shell

this scorch pinned
limb breath thief
sweat beaded skin
of a summer night

awake
against
my will

let me relish this
now cool & comfortable
bed a moment more

i am unready
to face the reality
of another day

& to be honest
i'm so much more productive
in bed anyway

how long can
i evade these
morning arms

some days are
for a wish we
weren't islands

some days we
empty our loves
our life's contents
into emptier seas

& this line
is a letter
& this verse
is a bottle

& if i cast until
they float packed
tight i just might
walk on water

asleep so long
under afternoon
sun & i wake to
this evidence of
his attentions

red licks upon
long limbs back
& shoulder blades
half blush heat
roses repose on
cheekbones & chin

so every move this
next day or few
will radiate residual
slow burn sunbeams

muted rumbles
of leftover sky
night lullaby

roll half-awake after
thundered cloudburst
moments ago &
kick sheets to floor
tug window open for
rush reach breaths
over bare skin stretches
of warm wet petrichor

a double or nothing
die young challenge
kind of a day not for
a lost love but for a
lost will or maybe a
lost longing for love
which may be worse

tired of
waking

too many ins
or outs of faith
& doubt days

when i almost
believe like i
believed when
i was a child

& earth had
an order to it
& the nature
of things made

sense because
everything could
be explained
by god or the
lack of god

& now this dance
of faith & doubt
is so much more

than a straight line
so much harder
than that past
ease of one foot
in front of the other

who can know
this thought
without a sound
of words

which ring with
something other
than echoes
in my own head

spaces & letters
clatter around pages
& perhaps there's
more wisdom

in this maintenance
than my wanting
gives whatever
credit for

another empty
crawl of staring
fingertip hours

body a ball in bed
corner arms clung
around ribs as if i

could actually hold
myself together
alarm clicks & chimes

i let it as i scan a wall
face for some reason
to start my day

but where is the cure
for dickhead reflexes
of disunderstanding

trite attempts
to temper a
felt reaction
distraction
& covers me
with his body
to bury the
dissonance

bullshit condescension
in lieu of understanding

i disclosed a page
or three of poetry
& he said it was

nice

& i never want
to see him again
but can't get him
out of this bed

slow stretch
sabotaged
& i remember
my space
invader

nothing on this
tip of my tongue
but tastebuds &
words in poor taste

whether or not
to smooth these
ruffled feathers

oh these messes
of my own making

damn & blast
bearded boys
who masquerade
as better men

i need better people
or better places to hide

trip over favorite
temptations

a vice i say
no to all day
& let in at
night anyway

dark familiar

& familiarity
& habit

are also a kind
of comfort

glean crumb bits
worth biting off
last scraps of
leftover advice

a hole as a crutch
a hole as a means
of separation or
distinction

a hole as some
antagonistic
collector of
artistic integrity

you exist with
a hole easy enough

but what of when
you let a hole
fill with gravity
& unopposed
drain you in slow
spiral increments

back arch stretches on
a rack of consciousness

hip tingle
teeth
at my ear

that sound when
comfort changes
into constriction

what to do when
your distraction's
out cold & all your
doubts close in

this gaping maw

of my bed & i

so eagerly devoured

my bed's pillownest

hides a black hole which holds me

in place each morning

i read somewhere that

pillow count correlates with

depression levels

so... i have sixteen

pillows on my bed but i

promise you i'm fine

what if we call

today saturday

eve & start the

weekend early

i got up, showered

went to get dressed but have laid

back down on my bed

it's just so hard to

accept the fact of mornings

even in their midst

set an alarm for

5 min from now then i

have to get dressed

today can happen

i just don't want to resign

myself to that fact

these morning haiku

are the only things i feel

like waking up for

this simple
pleasure of
slacking off