Pisces season/dream

Having been shown –

Alone on a train platform and dressed in a slate blue coat and matching hat, but my hair is bright blonde, and it’s the 40s, and another reality. 

Trains speed through and do not slow. Loud, and windy. Bone shaking. 

He walks up, kisses me and leaves. 

Then he walks up. Kisses me. Leaves. 

Factual departures, spent limerence.

Two men approach me from either side. I leave, walk forward onto a train.

Seated next to the door, it’s clean. Late morning, sparsely occupied. Out the window is pristine, clear blue, verdant grass and mountains, just tall enough for snow caps.

Nobody who knows me is alive, and I know no one any longer.  

Once arrived, in a white cotton crepe short-sleeved dress with small red embroidered flowers at the breast and pockets, red shoes, carrying a picnic basket over a footpath crossing above a creek.

On the other side, I spread a blanket on damp grass, facing the mountains.

An unknown man with broad shoulders shows up in shirtsleeves and a loose tie, reclining on the blanket. I rest my head on his shoulder, stare at the sky. The feeling is forlorn, fathomless isolation.

At night I walk down a wet cobbled street into an old village restaurant with low light, heavy wood. I remove short white gloves and rest them on my bag. It’s lively; conversations, restaurant sounds. I’m seated on a banquette, across from me is an empty chair. Bereaved, bereft. A bowl is set in front of me. 

At a hotel with light coral walls, I sit on the single bed, remove my stockings. A desolation, and terminal void. Turning in, under the covers, under the window, under a moon.

In the morning seated on the bedside, a heavy gun. I shoot myself through the right temple. 

bright tone

in the morning I smothered
her body so the blood
pressure could be taken

stress tremoring
quakes her fading
coat pulsing a shimmer

her fretting there and back
exhalations gone metronomic
the results

oil off asphalt
snow spread runs the soil

I still tell anything left
of her what it means,
I’m running out of notes now

to call her back with


Adam Driver said he’s got a guy

On round rocks dressed by shallow water, a loose tux like a break from an awards show

I asked why, waving at everything in the night
He said his ascendant is conjunct my moon
jupiter on my sun
Made a gesture like being fed up, but from another country

I said – But he should be
He said – I’ve got it
I said – It needs to be
He said – I got it

I said why is this an ocean
Of round rocks and little water

He said the drop off is ahead
And danced like Farmer Hoggett healing the hero


tell me my name now, new words after abrasion, rape, a cursive, ascender, tell me my name

the old a spent sigil, spool emptied, body outlined by buttons, a tree for the bog, sphagnum and histosol

kept for good. tell me my name Jack-in-the-green, a visit and say so, say so my name, anam cara, smearing my sinews, above us white eyes and stitch me to earth, repairing my measures

say so I know, woven and healing.




Setting out at night to traverse an expansive natural area, an owl lands on my right shoulder. I fret its injury, its face under its wing. My brother holds it in place but inspection says it’s likely fine.

Leaving, careful of the owl, its feathers on my face, the dry red earth graphing up the night skies. I worry for its wellness, worry about its tamelessness, wonder at its affinity for me. Then the feathers turn to fur, it changes then and is a sea otter.

A small, lit cabin is on the right nearby. I stop for water and rest, check the animal. An older couple welcomes us in. The break is just minutes. I walk us back out, navigate perpetuating terrain. None of it easy; the balance, my shoulder, the animal’s need. We reach the other end whole, and familiar.


Skeleton of a lamb, but with wings, and during The Troubles.

A bombed high-school at night with a hole in its side; we rebel into enemies. One of us, outnumbered in a room, and too few reinforcements rush by.

At the window exit, the ossein lamb. Its rib-wrungs and bleached skull wag, motions for a boost.
Smiling at me, it flies out, bone wings dispel the devils.

On the grass expanse, so few of us now, but her resurrection, and her short voyage.


Today I rested on the open side;

a mirror underneath on red cloth, 

an animal trinket for your found way.

In the southwest corner a pinned picture—

water cranes, a doubling moon,

my renewal of night flowers and laid ribbons, 

no word now. 


Think of how the town Juliet 

was next to Romeo. 

And the citizens thought: 

that is too precious. 

So Romeo became Romeoville,

and Juliet is Joliet. 

Think of how we can’t stand

anything we can feel.


olden instructional films

and the correct order

– for introducing everyone

– opening rolls to butter

– resting your not-in-use knife

– greeting your date’s clothing

– zig zag eating vs. continental

– separate the sediment by pour

– never cover the gun arm

one fine thing for another