MediaPlay

inside the eyes an olive turns into a light bulb marbles sturgeon eggs dropping slowly to the sea floor white lamps the size of grape seeds drifted by black currents wheat grains mosquitos with stomachs honeyfilled words light smears hot as razors grazing the eyeball the horizon drops and we skate into Orion inside the […]

What is the difference between sand and water When both fall through your fingers One palm wet and one hand dry One palm slick, the other brittle When gray light washes down from the mountain Like one hundred years of repetition And the water rushes over the world filling Every gap and crack and basement […]

A friend showed me what Barthes wrote about sight and continuity, without which we’d all break our noses on walls and, motionless, imagine pain as grit and red somewhere ahead: “. . . space can be constructed only from completed variations,” Barthes wrote. And so orange and olive brushed onto water by wind are instances […]

Planting but planting what? Lily Plants itself where ever sun touches And Butterfly Bush must be cut down To at least a foot above the earth, Their purple squirrel-tail blooms Pointing accusingly to the pines With their sagging branches weighted By their meat. Grass loves growing where I love it least. In the beds, but, […]

You could see them from the sidewalk, White jellyfish come from somewhere East, Wind-ripped at the tops like old sailors’ hair in a gale, Their cotton bottoms bloated with purple turbulence. Light chains linked them, elegance in white Disclosing some organic brotherhood, A fuse of hot and cold, a sharing unshared By those who have […]

A color is always many colors just as a place is a collection of forms, oval, tipped circles of rain on a pond turned stained glass, fire in their centers. At dawn green and yellow become time. Time becomes that faint gray at the pond’s edge at sundown.