knotted veins your

eyelids, blue
your paper skin
your shivers your
your floury wrinkles

and your   limp.

hollowed brow over your

gray gray eyes
your lapses your
gray eyes         your
gray eyes

your eyes

your lapses                  you


your chin hovers over your tea
breathe out, thin-lipped

your fingers trembling

Crocodile – experiment

C  r  o  c  o  d  i  l  e  grins above the mantelpiece, his sAaAaWawbone teeth and marble eye. C [rescent moon his transparent eyelid winks]  roco  dile

he stares through vodka de canter de fying de mysti fying de fi led f ogg ed glass.

CrrrrOCodile’s heart bbeats bbrown, purrppippled is a dried apppipple buried in his stRAW guts.

the clock he says tOK nOt Okwell he ied it with his marbled ie

Crocodiele ticks, one two one twotwo midnight two one am the next morning when crocodile shallleap from the mantelpiece




oaken waters.

His swamp glistens with furniture polish, bracken metal twisted under his dry, dry scales.


Side A: Zacharias

The piano is a self-contained organism, swallowing its own notes,
belching and breathing white-plumed fog
The twitch at his mouth, the tic of his hands, clenched atop the keys
his eyes closed, clockwork organic, lips thin against his skin
the uncomprehending shiver plunged into my throat

The bitter taste of his mouth, and the dry sprinkle of notes
scattered as he does across the keyboard
but he keeps his elbows to his hips

The open window makes no sense, but then
we never do
Nor does this grudging respect – his words,
not mine

odi et amo illunc, his ukulele embarrassment
and strange squinting smile

I have never liked spending time with him

Side B: Not the Fourth

He could have been but he wasn’t
he tells me
A fourth
You know what a fourth is?
He hasn’t explained it.
It’s when your father is a third.
Mine isn’t
Well, I could have been.
He could have been
but he wasn’t a fourth

Then Again, North

It’s coherent in his burnt honey room

His star metaphor is appropriate here
though I would never admit it