Dancing Ladies

Moving     conveyor belt trapped onward tight and secure     sure      so we hoped          roped    into a misty tunnel     my...

Baked Alaska and If the Shoe Fits

Baked Alaska Febrile as baked Alaska, I’ve grown over-heated from tilling the magnetic fields. Of course, I don’t expect the dead to remember me. I don’t tan, I grey.  Look, you can listen to all the confetti music you want, but to the illicit organ trade, it’s all...

Nativity Scene and The Forecast

THE FORECAST In a sudden downpour, he won’t make room for me under his umbrella— leans away when I put my arm around him, asks what do I think I am doing, whose fault is it for not having paid attention to the forecast at breakfast when I was still toweling off his...

Go in Abstraction by Sevens with Adverbs

You are meant to get lost hereamong words in a countryof words—diaphanous words holding a plea against somewretched, hard reality,against precision’s pinned-down rage minutely dissectingone more hapless pain, againstedgy acid ironies lying uneasily onopen satin-lined...

Punahou Blues

My rusted love shudders with the red scales of high school regret revisiting the wahine who kindled my blood. Holly strolls past the library in rubber slippers and green skirt striped white. Her eyes burn desire in French class. She wants me. My boy failures link up,...

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