This line exists                        between handshakes                            and infinity a circle drawntwelve degrees walking,          or a horse, backwards create a boundary between is and             will be ************* we begin with contention this picking apart the edges if this point were movement this motion, a subtle shift if the line between drifts away you walk backward into a time when

Since there was some interest in these poems, I figured I’d post a few more. I do not have images of all of the poems, which is something I need to work on. Anyway, enjoy. And thanks for reading.

This is one of about twenty poems I did using Susan Brownmiller’s book Femininity as the ground for a new narrative. They are tenatively titled “Loose the Stays”, but since the format is odd, I haven’t really published them. I have been trying to figure out how to make them work in print. Currently, I have been scanning them and storing them as pdf files. This is a project I am still very proud of, and want to see produced as a group.

That is our body, there are fuses–sometimes the arcing electricity is blinding,blows cicuit breakers breaking under the weightof secrets and sorrow and singularity Sparking, this is my bodyin the shadows This is my body that confusesand confesseslights up the darknesswith quick flames — that lick the sore spots This is my body a confessionan omission of blinding sadness and power

To the you who I have lost: there are so many, reallyhow to find the words–and then speakthem out of stillness in words, losses become more real, more palpable sometimes, easier to be wordless as if describing makes it so So losing that sparkallows you to suffocate and fadeyou did that–too long–faded, I mean. So how do you learn to shine? She stares back–her loneliness,her confusion, her shame, and I try to name it, banish the sadness by filling it with words orsighs or signs something to point the waya sign post?flashing light?neon?