Sadness overwhelms me in this circle of cut
flowers; some face me, plead for help, but if
I were to cradle one tulip-heavy head in my palm
like a premature baby, would its petals (that remind
me of my mother's skin when she was old) fall
to the floor? Others turn away in a dried blush
of shame. Just a few plump bodies flaunt sheen
on velvet cloaks, ye ... More
After you died, Nana, I went to your room,
it was dark like that place beneath the breakwater
where barnacles cling and children never dare hide
I opened a blind, a stuck window, breeze fanned
and fanned the room, light across your dressing-
table, triple mirrors. Amidst perfume bottles,
hairbrush, amber beads, your art deco box,
walnut with inlaid mothe ... More
Tenement Building (black & white photograph)
Chris Kilip, Tate Britain, 2014
you view the house from across the street
part of a terrace it fills the frame
the roof is cut off no sky dim light
upstairs a balcony
(found in rubble beneath a church — New Norcia)
Distempered walls crowd in cold at the old
schoolroom, resonant with the chant of times
tables, scrape of chalk on slate; a nun might
have leant over a child, white dust on her cuff.
This afternoon, light from a slit window catches
a silver crucifix and reflects onto the dome
of glass cabinet, li ... More
from the Tibetan meaning 'to build' or 'to construct'
In 1992, Alice made a Tulpa.
Carry an amulet. Kiss its three sharp corners. Shine.
It began subjective, but with practice could be seen: imagined ghost that flickered in the physical world, a sort of self-
Recall the chalk clouds. Recall the scent of ... More
Dot by dot, the backs
of eyelids. Draw it slowly,
shape of sentimental spine.
You curve that way.
I breathe the countdown
& the world falls, air by air.
In the white room you cloud
unsettled weather, & no electric
light will dare illuminate.
Your skin tastes clean sky,
polished gray. That clarity,
sharp ... More
Itch in the vein, the road hot still
from sun, an asphalt stream
bisecting unlit houses. Slip of an alley
cat through a spittle of starlight.
Last cigarette, the way Em curls
her yellow fingers into small mouthed
Clock tower bites light through the empty
parking lot. Gates we broke apart last summer, same
time I lost the laces ... More