Brightly-lit Attraction for Insomniacs

Moody flickering

streetlights millipedes

crunch under my running

shoes cool white

bulbs and sedona

sheets around this time

you are burned

into ash

farm girl

promised to a soldier

mother grandmother great

it cracks

my understanding

that part of the immensity

part of the wind-swept soothing night

is more

than the absence of unkindness

is the presence

of a farm girl

promised to a soldier

who raised 3 boys


Mr. Cogito: Of Hell and Hens


John Martin, Pandemonium, 1841

Someone tell me

Am I a bad taste hen

Clucking over a

Comical egg


I will become a

Psyche-piercing harpy

Clucking over her

Monstrous chick


Such is my faith

Or audacity—


Should my lord

Agni be Lucifer


I will ask for the smallest window

In rising



Jewel toned stained glass

In his glory