
Explode Haiku
A proximate cause—
A match to light the powder—
The keg will explode.

What I’m Reading:
“Everyone does things they don’t want people doing back . . . Everywhere you look, the strong walk all over the weak.”
— Mieko Kawakami / Heaven

A proximate cause—
A match to light the powder—
The keg will explode.

What I’m Reading:
“Everyone does things they don’t want people doing back . . . Everywhere you look, the strong walk all over the weak.”
— Mieko Kawakami / Heaven

You can see through me—
Hollow, fluid, liminal—
Impaled by sunshine.

What I’m Listening To:
“Here comes life with his leathery whip
Here comes life with his leathery, leathery”
— Aldous Harding / “Leathery Whip”

New people born daily: $5.99 / lb.
Self-replicating cosmic forces, yeasts, molds.
The sky is a terminal blue.
Ontology, espistemology, phenomenology, Teletubbies.
Getting naked in front of another person for the first time.
Coral reefs bleaching.
Hieronymus Bosch, Albrecht Dürer, Francis Bacon, Samuel Alito.
A stopgap gesture to appease.
People die everyday: $ .39 / each.

What I’m Reading:
“… I used to think
the moon was illiterate.”
— Victoria Chang / “The Cold Before the Moonrise”

You will no longer be bothered, or financially hurt,
by your role in an office-clearing
confrontation
at the place where they “check all your boxes”
based on a photo posted on Facebook.
You will no longer be bothered, or financially hurt,
by contagion—a peculiar one—
where your sudden imagining
of how said contagion was created
is upset by your spouse’s
nonchalant snacking and drinking
while watching television.
Don’t focus so much on whether a person
fits your “type”—
focus on how every person you know will die
during a random event.

What I’m Reading:
“April should be the cruelest
month, but they are all
cruel in their inch-by-inch strike.”
— Victoria Chang / “September”
coronal mass ejection
roil bubble and boil
the earth cooked to perfection

What I’m Reading:
“Yet recent analysis shows there is now a 48 per cent chance of temporarily exceeding 1.5°C within the next five years.”
— New Scientist editorial

Now you see me, now
you don’t. I’m lost to myself.
Even I can’t see
me. These are the places I
lived. This is the art I made.

What I’m Reading:
“Artists manifested themselves in art, not the world, so humans could encounter them there, forever. People could return to books at any time and find them right there, those burning souls, their words as bright as the day they were written.”
—Sheila Heti / Pure Colour

ain’t no planet b
we made planet a real sick
wildfires spewing
fire tornadoes miles high
while oceans acidify

What I’m Reading:
“A writer doesn’t owe a reader hope—the only obligation is honesty . . . “
— Bill McKibben / Falter

Prune my apple tree—
Possum-tailed blind, hedgehog round,
Dandelion free.

What I’m Reading:
“First day of war.
Rockets, not birds, whizzed by the window in
the morning.”
— Ludmila Khersonsky / “First Day of War”
plastic shovel in hand
shots whizz by my head
it’s hard to breathe and run this fast
i strike a saintly pose
i’m a pin cushion i’m a pineapple
i’m a porcupine undone
arrows are an occupational hazard
tied up waiting for the rainy season
in a parched and rocky land
call me on tuesday
i’ll be out by thursday

What I’m reading:
“I’m the uncrowned king of the insomniacs
Who still fights his ghosts with a sword…”
— Charles Simic / “About Myself”

i.
los minutos pasan
quedan dos
and then there was a multifoliate
a multiplicity, a multivariate, a
multiplication that started
with two
but here in this space, in this
void there is only one
only one that replicates
and that must suffice
ii.
i passed the time
i made some marks
i lived it
monochromatically
with an absence of angst
it was a way
of passing through life

What I’m Reading:
“Climate change has become such a familiar term that we tend to read past it—it’s part of our mental furniture, like urban sprawl or gun violence.”
— Bill McKibben / Falter