for a moment of joy or moments no one pays for, i give myself a ‘jornal’. this makes me rich. try it.

a rift in beveled dusk

(a parallel in fours–to be read from left to right or by column from top to bottom)

              a rift in beveled dusk  

            suddenly I recognize 

                                                the colour grieg                                      

             on wind slopes 

                                                 half grey half pallor

             lunes I once lost                                                                                     

                                                 now  gelling as clouds

           lolling with me in a puddle rim

                                   seeping off the rift  in swaths

                  my umbrella the faint mushroom sky 


December 29, 2020 Posted by | Uncategorized | Leave a comment


(one of my last poems at otata defunct since)

do foxes exist like we do?

thirst for what’s good like silence

sound fractures people’s heads

under cover of light

there’s iniquity dancing in the leaves

would fox howl if I whisper “I thirst for wind-drips”?

he draws his being up as if

there’s dawn in the guise of stalled words

digs the gloom

and cries leaving

purpled patches in my head…/otata-47

December 10, 2020 Posted by | Uncategorized | Leave a comment