Dear Shower Spider,

I do not eat spiders
not intentionally

I recommend that you
continue scrolling
onward and upward.

You are clean enough.

Thank you for your service,
The Management

spider child

tiny spider
pin head size
valiantly scrolling
up and up
in this vast universe
of my one bedroom
surrounded by space
she doesn't even gasp
I want to grow up
to be her

he looks
he stares
he says
he loves
my beautiful

now I do
own a mirror

I know better
I tell him


that hormone
that glorifies

the love hormone
of course he thinks
the impossible

as I look at his
handsome face
I gaze
I stare
my heart lifts up

oxytocin, dearest


duck duck goose

has a beginning
and an end

the moment is eternal
always Now

there are no second chances
but possibilities are endless


we live in a Universe

we are dead in it
much longer
than we are alive


is how we roll

ease your heart
with flowers
though they only last
a season

everything dies
no matter what they tell you
you are not dead yet

there has only ever
been one of anything

unique in the Universe
all at one time
which is

It's you.

if I am here
only as a rescue

a respite from
the parched dryness
of your bed

the echoing silence

no eyes to contact
the dearth of
other skin

so be it

you are worth
any increment
of my life
you choose
to inhabit.

I am here

I'm in it
for me too

out of sync

long day
short night

not enough
sleep in the world
not for this

I am so out of sync

the moon shrank
in this heat
she steams in the sky

who knew her
fabric content
contained wool

count sheep
she hears us
knits her sweater
takes a month
slips it on
tucks it in

it’s August
I melt
drip through the cracks
not quite quickly enough

the world marches on
while I sashay

here I go
trying not to be late
the late not so great
beyond late

but here I go

playing with fire

the past is a dark hallway
vague shadows
full of monsters

it calls

we try not to listen
but it insists

living inside us

we tell ourselves
future is coming

maybe not

it isn’t real
it doesn’t exist

the past is
a match burnt out

the future is
all potential

we exist in
the flame
the only place
where there’s


fully round tonight
a ferocious grinning
all-encompassing gaze

she bleaches the stars
makes them tremble
burned away
every hint of cloud


round and fat
full, not hungry
she needs nothing
from you

find a woman
like this
a fortune
hidden in plain sight

hang on for the ride
count yourself lucky
do what it takes

you lose her
you lose

The Sacred
is not always
someplace else.

Maybe never.

Maybe holiness
is sanctified
by presence

like the sound
of that poor tree
falling in the forest

Take care, for you are
standing on holy ground

if there is anything
holier than Earth
plus Life

show me

I feel my stupid lips
with the emptiness
of you
I suppose it’s
how it has to be
that doesn’t help
not at all

morning, first thing

song in my head
a thought of you
sun tapping on the glass
get up get up
Muse whispers
in my inner ear
there you are
thought you’d left
my soft and useless heart
harnessed to a typeface
drag this chariot of words
into the day

she is mute
that Muse

I cobble together

my head aches with it

I hope hopelessly
that something
anything I string together
makes a thing

whatever is worth doing
is worth fucking up

such a strange little
comfort habit

I connect my eyes
my hands my brain
try to connect
squiggles that talk

then pour it out
onto an ethereal
plane of existence
for strangers to see
or not see

come back, Muse
this is hard

song in my head
a thought of you
sun tapping on the glass
get up get up
Muse whispers
in my inner ear
there you are
thought you’d left
my soft and useless heart
harnessed to a typeface
drag this chariot of words
into the day


I live on a planet
that will kill you
if you stay on the surface
too long

some people are homeless

planet is
blue and brown and green
getting browner
less blue and green

too close to the sun
though the planet
and the sun
have stayed put

I help infest a planet
that was just fine
until we came along

we burned things
dug things up
killed everything in our path

it wasn’t just me
it was all of us

poor old planet


the distant sound of
closer in, cicadas
dogs panting

sneezy fresh
smell of cut grass
hot pavement

the body and blood
of the summer gods
juicy and sweet

hammock in the shade
an altar of sorts

sweating, half-naked men
sun-browned faces
sudden flash of teeth
grin or grimace

late slow sunsets
the beach at dusk

Perseus sends down his sons
summer boys
for human women

lie out on a blanket
past midnight
catch a falling star

a full moon peers in
my window aligns
with this slice of sky

she stares with
she is full
not hungry

I do not know
what she eats
but I know
I am empty

surely no

white dresses
so pretty

but if it's a choice
between food
or clothing

I will roll naked
in the clover
every time

juice dripping
down my chin

note from a nucleus

a given:
the well-read
have spent much time

here and now
spurns us

we befriend
or contemporaries
at a distance
with ink and pixels

within our own
cell walls
built of
tears and sighs
or confusion
or all that and more

becoming permeable
an act of rebellion
or acceptance

the walls are there
distant inky companions
are reticent
but remain

in or out
the walls are there

it's a strange moon tonight
half-hid behind
a tousled blanket of clouds

frowning and mottled
like an old woman
awakened from her sleep
for irrelevancies

there never was
another night
but I remember
a slender moon-sylph
a fat, pregnant mother-orb

here and now
a crone submerged
grumpy in her bed
half in half out

she whispers down,
"this had better be good..."


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