Biography

1. heaven is a knife carved into the hull of the sinking slave ship a wave that breaks across the bow and rocks that cradle toward adenosine paradise and in the final lucid thought of a stone-eyed captain—a sliver of light shining between two eternities—he speaks from a sermon written in the sand: “ephemera om; the story goes on” 2. stars divide and arc the pitch a locust ascends its living skin and the prairies hollows the coyotes scream, dizzy from fumes while tics crawl beneath my skin a blue light from your phone separates the cratered skin and in a chiaroscuro gradient, blends your face with the sky above my vision dims from across the grass I only see what I want everything stitched together but never touching 3. the color-corrected hue of a pockmarked faced bends to compute a pixelated thought and beneath that silence the blue hum of a backlit LED echoes into an empty room and reflects your face counting stars in a night with no sky the water breaks and I am born again on the rocks and alone the coarse moan of a child praying to be unborn is lulled back to silence by the hum of a precise god high in the computer tower and in that slumber the pimpled mountain ascends and empty heaven while the studio audience pleads for a better life the earth shifts and I am new wrapped in plastic waiting to be sold <br>