MOS: Polydeuces

Not sure how allegiances lie.

How I’ve missed you.

Again I have missed.

My brother wife.

The leaves fallen from my hand,
no answers in the station.
Again this is from the hand.

Pond water is the bath,
Lily pad scent obscured.

Coming home was never easy.

Leave me.

Come back.
A simple return in the steps,
a dance with no end.

Shuffle in place if you’d like.
I am not bound by your points.

MOS: Helene

So much to be unsaid,
withdrawn from the throat.

Kept among the puzzle of lights,
iron wrought,
so wrecked into trees unseen, unanswered.

Opposite the envy. No bringer of a jury.


I yell “Fire!” in the room.

This is for all of us to die.
to remain certain in our beliefs.

So constrained, almost an explosion.

Thirst the moment before the boom.

The stillness of the second that passes.

I want to be left here before it ______.

To be left during the falling of fruit.

I collapse, I collapse.


I stand upon the gravel, it is not immense but I can’t imagine counting each stone, each rock of support. A turn of foot, crunch step, crunch step, I am cavernous, connected to each. I am here.

Waiting. Blue ribbon beer in my cold hand. Winter is not to be messed with. Instead of the blanket of clouded warmth there is the pin prick light of sky, that ancient light competing with the nubile light of the city, the whites and yellows in the maze of concrete and shadow.

It must pulse on some scale. the lights seen over great distance and time. The lights of the planet, the heart beat of the world and I am here.


Moving from Mundane to Mundane

1: Mundane

The shore ruffles
muted into sand
water sizzles foam.

Footsteps are broken
echoes soak in pockets
freedom in letting.

Bubbles track the turning tide
the angles are wrong
for a centered sunset.

The waves spread, cacophonous
chaos, impending, inevitable.

The sand is a broken thing
thoroughly reduced.