Thursday, September 6, 2012


you're my every day.

Tuesday, July 10, 2012



the sun was directly behind you
i could've (might've) mistook

as a stranger

distance felt more natural
fled the crime scene
burnt the evidence

& there's no invisible light.

just a sunny day with no end.

Friday, June 15, 2012


wake up at noon
make myself a crown
build a castle
wage a war
tear down the banner
sleep on the couch
find myself alone

Monday, May 14, 2012



it's true what i have said--

that i am
             weary. misplaced.
still stuck in the stream
monotony. by daylight
legs drag along the riverbed.

day-dreamt of ghosts bound
to the fences
                    their brothers
& sisters
                   once sat upon--

at night i am

unable to lighten the weight
of myself.
remaining a student, a son, a
           to the eyes of forever.

(title-less) from Michelle Gottschlich / edited/chopped from Josh Zoerner


i dreamt of lake michigan. dreamt
that i could smell 
                             foul water & the 
waste of the mill furnace. 

watched Bethlehem’s stale candle. 
                                         & sister, 
i dreamt of you. 

       up to your shoulders in water.

from the beach,
i watched mercurial waves lick 

saw a host of gulls circle 
                                        over us, 
& waited for their cries 
                                    like distant 
door hinges. 

i thought of the rosary 
                                   mother gave you 
&  sister, i

but prayed to the gulls anyway.
& i couldn’t get to father. so i
for you. i stayed

perched at your window, 
the garden tremble. 
                               sometimes hiding 
under your covers.
& it's true, 

i can smell your sweat laced with the 
dirt of summer.

sister, i wondered if you had
or forgot how to swim. 
i could teach you again.

(i thought you might like 
                                       the water) 

on your side of the bed i reason 
to myself how you didn’t cry at 

our stepfather’s funeral. you’d find me 
                just staring at your ceiling. 

          you are a russian doll 
& i keep you safe. 

& sister, in my dreams i wait for you, 
i wait just to hear for 
                                 your footsteps to 
crack on our floorboards. 

Sunday, April 29, 2012



i sit in a hotel suite writing
                                           about fame
& tradition.  ramshackle
                                        assemblage of

            trailed by the affectionate cuddle
of cigarette smoke. i must've
                                              seemed old
& grey from her angle.
                                     even concrete &
glass put me to shame.

but that's not what other people
                                                 think. i am
a different season-- a hugeness of fiction.
an unending catherine wheel, that goes

           & goes.

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

"letters of note"


you are fooling around elsewhere.

we shared interesting places &
       listened to one another's antecedents.
i am certain
                   that is where this comes from.
i am half as good as i once was
                           and you see well enough.

to hell with it,
                         this is what we do
when we are at our best.

i am sure
               you were wonderfully

as you both tumbled the way novice acrobats
tumble. my memory will
                                                  place the shit
in the wastebasket, but this time you

then my head flickers & i remember some old
words: "we have to hurt like hell
                                                     before we
get serious."