R. Sonnet

we are
the whole mess
of us
dizzied spinning
vertical goes the
horizon in our blood
a song

we whirl
and up come alliances
pointed eyes
memorized bedrooms
put forth pleas
you capsize
me

inside crescendos
recur – our skin
tingles to forget
this planet

antitextspeak

1.15.2012

write a wrinkle
out a finished
word a finch that
ends a sentence

entertainment takes
a swift stroll through
scholarship makes
for wobbly minds

where winter rewinds
us into an open or
otherwise openable
compendium

an afterego aura
a landslide toward
midnight come back
doesn’t cut it

upside is or isn’t
tautology is histrionic