“november”

our houses burn as November spins its grey web the red lipped leaves of morning have gone up the trees to die in the thin fall light death is coming the smoke rears as we hold hands with a jealous god I forgive you our houses are burning like a chorus of insects the...

“leaves”

who are the fallen things wings of the dead that are blown from us in remnants of fire they are the woven dark ghosts darklings driven by wind and rain that spill over the night honey sky – Daniel Haskin November 10,...

“dead man’s blur”

the world is not a long thing to have but I was here once floating in mother’s milk I knew nothing but the stillness the silence of a chapel’s teeth then a god‘s gut-light stuttered over me I fell out of sleep amputated by smoke as morning poured out its breath like a...

“chrysanthemums and cinnamon”

you walked me home singing me to sleep like the stations of the cross my mind on fire with leaves burning along the boulevard when I succumbed you wrapped me up until I became a necklace of white noise a ring of chrysanthemums and cinnamon a scent that tied me to the...