Lately I’ve been rattling like
pennies when I walk,
and turns out, all the black holes
lead to me.

Central Line

So when I say
I am a poet,
condemn me as a thief.

I make myself
avoid the appearance
of listening (page 34)

you asked me what i write poetry about

       she teases, "don’t get me pregnant,
that’s the old wives’ tale." maybe she implies
wives are swept off their feet,
or maybe kneeling can name any floor
an altar.

Benediction and #4 Clippers

I used to clean her yard of remnants, slotting femurs and calves
into a bucket, so they wouldn’t decompose near her zucchini.

She saved each piece on hooks in her basement. She was trying,
I think, to build her own framework of a deer. 

Ruminantia

So bright I was certain / 

      I was eight or seven—forgive me / 

that the entire storm was localized above our carpet 
spackling the ceiling / trailing eye flares from the fireplace.

Blitztorte / Lightning Cake

You weren’t red, either. Not beyond your rind.
I bit just a section—a snicker—of the orange,
and magma dribbled through my knuckles.

August 27th, 2003

been here before? he asks through his hat.

i’ve never eaten, i say. i am here to meet my love in new york city.
above the plates is a prophet, so i must be honest.

Avery Y-W

Selected work