Photos of honeycomb and bees have been layered into a rectangular repeating background.

SLP: [70.] [72.] [73.] [77.]

[70.]

Yr dog is not yr happiness to be lost tho ye clutch the dust yr lost dog
heart faild or utterly achievd who choose the reason to haunt as reason does yr lost dog

U can live, stony organs pressing out their purpose, until completed


All those ecstatic ghazal writers sang longing sang love life temporary
but not the death of love achievd—the poem wd break under it


                                                                        where’s yr lost god

E’en yr grief must be pretty, u ugly crier, no Elektra shriek, no hawk’s beak
split complete to speak. No speech. It’d be better these seizures went silent as yr last dog

Faiths a beetle-bitten pine brown tinder for sadness unslakeable forest firing
and all the ash wont reclaim what yre not done w/

[72.] – first published in Denver Quarterly

Friend, expect no sense, as tho t’perceive were reason
no light for seeing, no breath, air for breath, not absence

remaining’s a fault line stilled w/ sheer faces forced grind
but choking, but frozen muscle tracts—take my sense

If I cd die now, I wd, go w/ u, little white
sock-paws pennant-tail. my Friend. limpid stare.

in this air-prickle purple-thunderd post-storm, post-storm
the storm’s missing, the nexus of feeling, all good sense            

my familiar, I’m yrs, I can’t take me w/ me more—
all my nerves explode if I let them in—where’d it go—

face meets face the only moment that remains to matter

[73.] – first published in Denver Quarterly

who cooks for me when I cannot cook.
anothr disappointment, common as a kitchen

what happens in a room whose use’s unused.
this space I made, no one comes

I was a thorn bush, then a bird
caught in my thorn bush

Love, y’ve left. will I be willing?
unrecognize one for the new animal y’re wearing

who rises when Love’s not home.
rabbit, take care

 [77.]

my typewriter’s poor
flamenco orchestration

dull resonance inside chambers the plodding
go go go of my own w/o echo

steady unrhyming lurch of no one safe
my faulty clock my broken doomsday

rabbit’s mirror, dead of burst pump, I am
forever now only losing you

what’s to percuss me back into the dark
cabaret studio space, its held starlit candles