Jessica Is

Jessica    is
Yiska        iss
Yiska        issa
doll            isssa
Vuh           is
Yiska        iss
dahsh       issa
being        issac
the             issau
mourner’s         es
laymen                  ess
tayshaun                 esa
not                                esau
having     is
a                 ish
father’s   ishma
blessing  ishmael
is                   shma
common   Yisroel
is                          had
custom               hadad
when                     hadada
playing                    hadaddy
with                            hadatees
name                                hades



*originally appeared in otoliths, issue forty (February 2016).

I Guess

I guess it’s the deep-bruise sadness
More than
the crippling recriminations
Or utter
otherness that weighs within
So many
moments removed from someone

I could not call myself

I guess it’s the deep breath baring
of quiet lying
That tickles a pulsing pathos

In beating a grain brown color
of brain
over Shivered awe dimpling
my fallen
first face

I guess it’s the deep chest brittling
Vapored traces of misguided hillside
That damns the burnished schema
of this
Picklishly laughless and fallow attempt
at expression

I guess there’s a boon to such realizations

A buttressed duty for the inches
and for the suffering

That to this point has failed to save
The Circular Unslept

Sometimes To Disappear

Sometimes to disappear
like Holden Caulfield

crossing a street
through dusk’s descent

on this lightly lit
and nervous city

without a book
by my side or nesting

in my beleaguered lap
I am left go to transpose

a daisied frame
of dimpled

and fallish words

A wrinkle of linking seconds

too antique to recall

sitting me down
dizzy a bit

on age’s breath

So for what will I send
such toyish thoughts forward?

Maybe for no one

as I do love true
the no one’s I know