Coldly satanic is the phantom moon whose hollow shell is the alien body of a god who hatched and died too early.

Bergson Memory is a cloud wherever my body is; A fog of the virtual enveloping the actual. The past contracts to the present at the...

There is (if you care to know), a flower of folly growing On my brain, on the surface of the matter’s deep. Fit for the Fire, its fate is...

In my mind a series of irrational numbers, of non-repeatable fractions without end. Something doesn’t add up. I am divided,...

The Moses Tree From the tangle of its roots, To the nests in its hair The tree blazed white and blue. And the tree sang the Lord’s name...

[ Disguised .] Yes, it is I. In I come, out I go. Yes, I am it. It writes. I will write a supplication. Here. Now. As follows. And in...

Cryptic The scent of a foreign newspaper in the morning: New ink on old investments and trades. While down in Berlin, the autobus...

Having material weight, a poem can be shaped, sculptured and refined; erected as units, structures, factories, bridges, outhouses and...

Descartes' Dream I was a lonely cripple Seeking shelter; I heard thunder, saw fire. Sleeping too much, Snow on the rise. My bones warm...

Irked Like a sacred text folded in on itself, a page half torn away, stains in the margins, a footnote wrongly numbered, the letter ‘i’...

Shaddai A plant grows from the Nile, the שׁ, primordial cause, rooted in the water, breathing in the air, the commencement of births,...

Down stairs, out there, street-level salesmen finger doorknobs, suck pens   Spiralling down the stairs the hallway the reception  ...

By Richard Mather Dreams like girls in private rooms beckon from windows the souls of sleepers who move shadelike through night’s dark...

A jazz trombone extends a metaphor, the length of a memory.   With a memory, my grandfather says,   You got to hear its pitch, its tone &...

Artful Agaze, the artist is beset by eros Of no vulgar kind. Crossing the chorismos, He takes his tools, kneads and forms And sculpts....

And so the gods of lead and brass, The idols and their thrones, The teraphim made of fibreglass The mummified skulls and bones, Are...

Seeing this house, that tree, the sky – my experience is already in accord with certain classes of thought*. World anterior to thought...

Simulation (Through the Looking Glass) “Observe this fagged-out world, this patch of chemical scum, where things – people, cats, tables,...

By lamp and by oil, we hunger the hours as the dusk's frost sets in. There is time: The trucks to Treblinka are not ready yet and...

Beneath a red lightbulb innumerable doves swim as if in a cold, gold sun.   Birth, creation, a ruinous origination. Decomposition settles...