selected past writing at 42opus
It begins with a man about to kiss air.
He imagines a face, his lids slit open.
Lips in position as though ready
for a word he can't pronounce.
2 December 2001 | poetry
I wonder will you
when your cherry popping daddies stop…
2 September 2003 | poetry
By the time I finished writing, you had disappeared inside me. An absence bounded by the imagined shape of your skin. The body only token of the thought that creates it, yet I counted years by those touches, those bruised moments of light. Plankton sparking in the suffocating cold. I opened the ocean's windows against the lateness of night up there…