gulf of hours: a holographic eulogy


i grieve in waves

i grieve in waves at

i grieve in waves at the

i grieve in waves at the foot

i grieve in waves at the foot of


a white dog,

sleeping hard inside itself

in the name of saltwater, in spite of the toothless

man, here, like a christmas vessel, for the ritual

                                      look, it’s the standing girls
whose mothers crawl the woods looking

for birds like an answer,

like an ugly, wordless angel



we’re so big we never make eye contact she whines at the boy, the bowl is blue they bring water to the dog when the stranger asks what we call our home no, i wouldn’t be a green tree

two rooms, hot vessel pretend to see other-other draw lines between the spaces to remember nothing



special, just a distance two men circle the car, the lines bend and

i look forward forever

fall asleep naked on a stage

in front of a stranger with knots

in his head

a spot in the eye

he walks around the spot

in his eye


posture of a body out of balance

man wears his feet backward

with gravity , in a ball , in his belly

it turns, and again




salt floods the month’s end and my mouth wrenches a boring goodbye

it’s true, the forest is sleeping with its grass growing in two

directions this machine not addicted to coughing when the girl is active

catwalk around the white lion towards a man counting fire scorching the bridge put myself in its heat limbs lose their water in slow motion transpires into leggy

yellow flowers for you to hydrate