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The alcoholic has bad dreams, his hands shake at night and sleep is haze and steel blue smoke, his sleep is a train running deep into the...

While we are here You should take off your shoes And make yourself comfortable Unless you worry about having ugly feet Then you should...

Poem No 3 - (for Beckett) “ He was listening in the dusk …  listening so intently that he did not hear her enter. “  ( from short...

An acquired taste. For the cannibals we say we aren't we look at femme bodies. For the taffies better known as flatteries between liars...

My daughter won’t crawl. Her legs and arms quiver to an off-beat rhythm. I invite a physical therapist into our home. The therapist...

Services at a Later Date I pick blue hydrangeas from my yard. Don’t know what to do with them. Arrange them in a vase, press them in a...

The following erasure first appeared in Babel Tower Noticeboard 2020 Aimée Keeble has her Master of Letters degree from the University of...

in air thick with rain’s threat, i pull words up like sick on string. hiding in the spaces between sounds, ammo under my tongue. alms of...

I walk to The Factory, a gay bar. It’s Saturday, drag night. There’s Nancy Sinatra singing “Sugar Town” in a blond wig, long go go boots....

this is where we misremember & forget- me not revisit the provided pricked flesh of pollens because there are a multitude, plucked...

Roots and Rituals After the film Phantom Thread By Charlotte Hamrick when you say, Give me silence, purify my sour heart - I prepare...

Jon and Cinderella walk up the hill slowly, tired; this is the third week of work and their knees hurt; they’re sick. They’re both in...

I was no good when you were a child Loving you wholly, but feeling too much All I had was love back then, not sanity or time I worry...

Consider this sea of movement, the multitude in waves. Now, deceptively calm, until by a mysterious wave of a demagogue’s hand, it shall...

I flinch then I drift into reverie… wing-swept and flake-wept to swooping footpaths past a curved door’s stoop, rapt in a gashed globe...

Fern moods flicker within this rain’s haughty coven— in its strange calls to sleep and mosquitos, and to the thoughtless trillium— and...

Unhurried in a realm below the acorn woodpeckers hoarding their harvest I try not to think of their bright clown faces while eating their...

On a screen-porch in Baton Rouge, real low to the ground my mother’s hands rattle the old metal peeler birthing naked potatoes pulling...

Crickets have Long held A sacred contract With worms, knowing The earth Has its Wind and fire contacts Its own power To quake Your left...

She loves him. She loops barbed wire in the shape of a man larger than he is for him to inhabit. Finer wires shape careful patterns...