Videos

Do cats like wicked people? They sleep beside the old, And were once entombed with kings In pyramids of gold.

A cat without fur, Crippled and old Still wants to be held When it’s cold.

Hooked on concentration each knows his own stretch. In it for the long haul, their spools, slow-paced, reel in the afternoon. What they are looking for is river shimmer, a darting shadow to break the spell: something to unnerve them.   This may take some time.

the Fuji blimp patrols a giddy frizz   of skyline recognizable in order to be   aerially comforting an infant swaddled in a stroller   as if a flying object could be   image of the mother—   love settled fitfully on the ad line   as a butterfly its nectar

You wouldn’t take it lightly, would you – those stories stencilled up there which you’re so eager to read?   There’s more to be discovered than you’ve seen or imagined in the sparkling silver, the brooding black – binding up your dreams in their mercurial reality.   You’d be a fool to bet against them, those shapes that make sense, shift, and then don’t.

a Lü Shi   First full moon in the new year, a night so bright as day light, big like a lantern in a lane, jasmine rice steam rises from cook shops, Wolves howl into the void, nocturnal sounds, not disturbing the sleep of hibernating creatures, moon stands high now on the firmament, I continue my sleep, rest under blanket.

there’s a race, a celebration every time we wake up still breathing   the sun against the wall like a curse on anybody else   but damn, you never looked hotter in those Ray Bans

The past is perfect & We yearn for it, Unreachable in its   Transparent bakery display cases Remote, untouchable,   Until one day   It vanishes   Like a slow Moving cloud   == 1/6/22

Food with roots and leaves Eating plants and trees I see this as life on a plate I see meat as death on a plate

Pretty as a cup in shade Brave as frozen puddles Careless as frayed twine Important as long evenings (Think of those to come) Wise as hollow feathers Fast as bonfires Big as bowls of fruit Loved like lit candles Pure as a friendly stranger Young as someone from behind.

Somewhere a cat Rubs its side against a fence. That's sleep. Cobwebs between doorless jambs Are doors. That's the moon. Dark purple wine Splashes down the sides Of a lead mug. That's the night.