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preset curvature
at the East-West parable
light distortions
tales lure my finger
to a dimmed screen

a new password curls up
on the tip of a touch
presidential preference
the cursor’s menu
points to insecurity

what you follow in fog
is not a firefly
it’s the winged move
of a banana moon
peeling itself out of light

then almost dark
Euphrates and Tigris
keep washing waters
he cradle’s red cedar
swings sleep on a baby’s eye

eye of a Sufi
neither a blink nor a linear
on a sandy stage the dancers’
whirl well beyond slow oil



Silently in My Hide

the verses’ flux may collaborate with the tongue of a salamander.
I remember myself walking through oak woods where once we found

the creature petrified under volcanic ashes. The ambiguous dream
lands along red scars in a cloud of insects. Later I recognize

intonations coming off a bar, off injured corpses looked into dope.
We share the harbor’s sweet water faucet. Fishermen filleting albacore.
“Nautical blood”, we say interacting with the mother of no corners
happy at home in salty seas. None of us expecting border clashes.

Our nightgowns’ kaleidoscopic textures lighted by shooting stars.
Angled straws in coke bubbles sway like post in a forgotten bottle.

Breath shaping upward/downward transitions.
“Cloning rain” whispers a voice behind curtains we forgot to shut.


Unnamed Visible

summer is hiding
              in a single cloud
              her absence

tender lodging   please don’t say more   about humming

followed to the beach
by sand
the unnamed dune

from darted air   the color of her skin   gliding

a kite
no visible pull
at the end of a string




Hours on My Path

1 a.m. to 12 a.m.

The night with no address   in her silk gown flex   it brushes the glass bowl
                                                                                 I am making sketches
                                                                                 from a pulse of a carp’s mouth

a deep sea dream     calling motion  unidentified    in disposition
                                                                                 names become shifted
                                                                                 locations metastasized

on piano keys       one finger moves on to c            b holds
                                                                                 only half a step lower
                                                                                 black space heard in a pause

like a heron in no action     upstream dozing           the raft’s man
                                                                                 spilling gin spilling spasm
                                                                                 Midsummer over willows

pebbles in my sponge like tears on an albatross      I greet the fetal shoreline
                                                                                 as if there will be learning
                                                                                 on the longitude of sailors

the light house keeper    his goal seems about         fixtures and wattage
                                                                                 he dares to touch the switch
                                                                                 at this early hour

perhaps tea      he thinks    green    innocent            this sweetness
                                                                                 when the Port looks oily
                                                                                 it’s for the behavioral science

this loose laughter     feather-light vibrations          on April Fool
                                                                                 from a far country side
                                                                                 the donkey I hear

stage-time rehearsal   warriors hanging around       their theological warfare
                                                                                 when a plastic horse opens
                                                                                 out jumps the clown

tightly shut      like a white fur in winter                 his airmail letter arrives
                                                                                 the postman waves  
                                                                                 but why is everything floating

on our bikers’ course with the seventh gear up hill we’re loosing weight
                                                                                 on a cliff inward
                                                                                 outward   only curves

at the Marina   in the pool  a dolphin is balancing   the only ball left
                                                                                 couldn’t we also let dance
                                                                                 ourselves             on noses  


Tailored Pillows                                           

It floats I trace it
keeping sand
corals sway in one direction
tenderly seized

not pure
my shivers’ shelter
walking with small buildings
adjusted addresses

over and paused
in how little
I don’t mind doors
hours we find repeated
July-yellow stares at spots

leaving it oracular
apples and eves
a quotation sours
running out of lips

the sweat
mosquitoes come to lick
help may be tailored
magnified on pillows

hair arrangements
as I lift the pile
not escorted
combing the air at dawn

this alone
only invitational
words relocated


The Tightrope Walker

locked into the alphabet
of a life time rehearsal
balancing this borrowed
shape of his breath

such a meeting rings
in red-mouthed flowers
the bell
sure of fatigued satin
like domesticated dew

cell-ventured water
leaving the mother
with a just-born child
as the first teeth tickle
before they will bite

applying a verse
with the woman-tide drifting
an uproar
at the intersection
stuck with unchanging yellow

a banana slug
slow as an barometer
laying bare an ease we crave for
and two ants
licking her tail

the trail of dots
as the eyes on my screen
go astray
when an electric impulse
sends a real time out of sight


Fairy Waters                   

along their own responses
she holds her fingertips
               circle to circle

in perspective
                could one be
            part of the bow
                    the sound
of two curved tongues

dialing          the fiber
lit by a stranger’s question
incongruous a cry
in the night of the matter

dream words’ proximity
they seem to get closer
to a nearby spider tent
erecting an angle over
a base one dares to trust

things she warms
are not departing
through rays of pine a shift
away from talk with others

keel over down to silence
half turned a face
habitual is the moon

wing from
the more absent
ivory-feathered attention
bird    can you call closer
the color of coming

in layers             gestured
stone from inside out
pulsing blue veins
in search of        entering
prime numbers of the sea



This Is An Early Knot

vocalic in its twist
or a bud reddening
against a teenager’s blush
thorns not dissolved

bent and thirsty
        the opening gestures
        of a sprinter
the movements pairing
shaded in shoulder blades

the moon arrested
as if its weight can push white
                          out of balance
                      out of traversing
         light on neck or balcony

snake please     come
              write into loose sand
               your question marks
fleeing permanently
with traces of hers and mine

           watery winds
their impermanence
             at the flight
of animals and impositions
out of reach       not trusted

metastasized contour
the fiber optics of a city
humming       zero / one
in a lake of messengers
wet mouths shut then open




under the wings
of five lines

what you saw first
      is not her hand
        swatting a fly
it’s your winged wish
swarming in the dark

make-up mirrored
when two flies arch
over her eyebrows
causing the feeling
of slowly imagined guests

a fly steps down
the flux of rosé
in glasses    departing
     some visible signs
                 and others

frozen snow
to my stove invited
creeps one fly
both alone   we consider
not to stay     both alone

no need to learn more
about flies and us
feet crawling under
wing-patterned sheets




Not Even Daylight      eyes half closed before the screen
the charm of black typefaces awakening under fingertips. 

The positive relates to the negative, dimmed spaces we discussed
left alone to the intelligence of the motherboard.

It’s like the risks of a young remarkable decision, accidentally
being here with us and still shy, responding unrestrained.

Much is sponsored by the city of waters we left ill-considered
now we are lovers of perpetuation, vertically received a preference.

Parallels turn into circles, their radii squeezed by tentacles
the pantomime on demand still blushing from kisses by both sexes.

Masks and feathered icons talk to themselves on a slanted stage
when a dancer’s build-in compass needle stops and becomes an arrow.

The horizon a mutual arrangement, it may confuse blood structures
the smile of a stewardess, a whale, unpicked goddesses, chalk. 



Drifts by Contract


my sail is sea reflected
adapted to a dolphin’s dream
                         not yet netted

a drift on cocaine
the dramatis personae
contract in swimming
fleeing the waters


silence    in the bath
of a glass blower’s cast
his breath becomes an eagle
escaping hands


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