Or, Von brigði after Sigur Rós forget about liner notes, baby — curves that’ll eat you alive; mouth- full of mirrors, tongue all wet metal and slip, slipping. night always gets like that — feathers for the melting, harshest echo. invent variations on the process, like this: look at the stars, find what you want to find. nothing left but coal in the canary’s cage.

Poetry Sunday —

on the day we lost you two years later Two years ago, one of my oldest friends suicided. * The reason I knew why Buckminster Fuller was a revolutionary in seventh grade. We took turns reading his biography aloud at lunch. The reason I passed Algebra 2. * Hope you’re flying over geodesic domes in the holy land. You, most serious goofball. The following poem can be read both all the way across and down the page in columns.

Water

120bpm dusty road + knuckles crac king sym phony grates on over tired anxiety why are you still looking for that which doesn’t want to be found? Remember you can still drown in the desert don’t’ look down from your high wire hill where acts of violence reduce to dots on…

Making & Meditating on a ten-minute videopoem tribute to Diane di Prima for Wisdom Body Collective This letter is revolutionary because it is uncensored. When I set out to make this videopoem I had recently been invited to join the Wisdom Body Collective, Diane di Prima was barely two weeks departed from this plane. Videopoem became container for wide-ranging grief catalyzed by di prtima’s death, and…