a red arrow shows where you should be but aren’t


you see two sparrows the brown of wet rope

then they disappear w/in a background

that looks like wrapping paper for an uncertain day


the black sky sags beneath all you have asked of it

some of the clouds seem gaseous & some not

one given to thunder & another to silence


a wall of grass is nearly eye-tall & yellowy

but you only report on the cut on your thumb

the blood partnering w/your other sorrows


you now see the white under-wing of one sparrow

in a way it seems apt & in a way it seems passé 

this pet-analogy or worse trope you don’t want any part



american health scare


from the desk of the med-rep: are we more

tamed by form or the inability to be content?


high strung as a tiger I thought about toughing it out

instead succumbing to a time out & an emotional comb-over 


if the umbilical cord reattachment doesn’t pan out

find more great deals on brain surgery here


I volunteer to be neutered for the case study’s sake

later talking up the scar as they’re dusting around me


creation-wise there is much less to solve

vowels air-born & consonants mercifully re-filled


my boss recorded my sobbing in the break room

no more decorating or bringing in brownies for the 4th  

epistle to Goethe


I keep changing

the way I do this

thing w/my hands


like I’m old Werther

astonished by his age

spots & top-heavy head


his teen-loneliness

filling him in so aptly

on the rest of his life--


o how living’s the rage now

if only you had known

this so long ago




(i.) so


is art

the inescapable

separation from

that thing we’re most rapt

not given to parting w/


or some past

that is strapped

for those memories

we were either a part of

or have set our self a trap


(ii.) what?!?


seeing is light forced to take

flight from what is way

too obvious at our core

& poetry its opposite

Mark DeCarteret’s 7th book lesser case was just published by Nixes Mate.