Already, I can see that, whenever Harold moves, some of his soul escapes, like an accidental exhalation, like breath on powder.

I follow what pulls me forward.

I texted a wickety-split, tax-declaring New York-based international escort, a moonlighting, all-pro Kit, whose day job on Wall Street yields no bonus.

There were only six passengers aboard the small ferry...

Lo and Behold, there you are beside me

long lines, short words

He asked what I used for birth control and I told him, “prayer”. He smiled the kind of smile you smile at young girls who don’t know any better.

The decision to wage war on terrorism gave to terrorism its political legitimation.

God had decided to resign. Not even two weeks notice. He just resigned. Point blank.

(Suddenly, too lazy to pull even one title from his shelves, he thought: if it's now the “Dao De Jing”, shouldn't it also now be the “I Jing”? Alas, he was no translator.)

the champagne foam cascades like cherry blossom ensnared in the first gales of spring

I saw/ star shine in/ my silver pail

There will be no more internal birds like singing clocks, not like the lovely ones I know and still look forward to hearing, ringing like little bells in the church y belfry of the newly sprouting mornings to come, not unless the birds…

For you I bring the circus, I reinvent the shine

I sink until water saturates my lashes, waiting, breathless, for the words to stop.