From his geodesic dome on the Monterey Peninsula Turquoise Seth speaks on the phone though time to the Desert Fathers The voice of one crying in the wilderness Seth speaks but is not heard Because he’s            too hip                                

A year from now when you ask me to share the moment I knew, I’ll say it was the night at the fair when, queasy from the Greek fare and rides that spun us on our sides— “This must

The day was sullen, the sun cold, shaded gray behind the clouds, the air biting my skin. In front of me a tree, dead and gray, waiting for its spring revival. My friends, my coworkers, my brothers. It was

woke up sour on a thursday. i dreamt a fishbowl universe where mice cohabitate with monkeys except when the monkeys get hungry. this is not a metaphor. call it nature. darwin’s gift house. or maybe another weekday dream. did

A tangled heap of bones and hide cast into a ditch, this discarded infant bore only one blow before the end: flies are eager for that old blood, rooting into the already-softening flesh to succor and sustain their own

The last time, we have sex in his car. We drive out past the water tower on North Dearborn, take that left turn onto gravel. I bolt myself to the seat, ratchet my fingers around the headrest. One bare

Tampa sleeps beneath an interstate with a fifth of vodka in its roughed-up hand after another long night getting lit. In any case, you switch hornets with bats and realize with forgot, turns out it makes a huge difference.