tried not to stare
or think too much about 
the timbred hues
you moved, in the air, 
around peoples bodies

and i was listening
i heard everything
bore space, enough for 
something to reside 

what this could be about...
Woolfgang Tillmans - Zero Gravity IV


the surface
where you drew me 
outlined, kohl'd, heavy 
weighted for you
waited only for what felt
like, what forever must be

crazy with an idea of 
normal interactions between
now normal just tastes like
something that maybe you'd once 
had a chance of at being 
ripe + so sweet, now's grainy and bruised 
and definitely, too touched 
and too used to

and then here, like in pace
our stomachs get tired
together, for-longing, for-giving
skin falling from their bones
falling over here and under where
we could talk and fight and fall and fuck
could study, inch by inch
for hours for days for weeks for months
as long as longing takes
a lifetime, i guess

i know, i know
there is no sanctity in this
never did have patience for chess
never would another have lasted
this second or third or fourth glass

and still, i wreck the sheets for you
turned in every direction
except, the one you were heading

confidently, i
know where we reside

Artwork by Ryan Tippery


all these bits i keep
lately, can't carry weight
don't cast shadows on, even, a broken frame
not-a-thing worth keeping

so i'll fix the hard-wear'd
punched nails & lifted screws
change the dirty filters
take snapshots of cloudy views

it's like it's something, but it's not
maybe, distracted in moments i've thought
that if i were a better person...

but here, abstractions don't make for
anything more 

than participation

shingo yoshida 'voyage to the centre of the earth'


(three hour slice)

legs crossed at creases, skin-on-skin 
deep in conversation
skinny pool between my thighs

exert a laboured, rhythmic force
through the city obstacled course
tickling lines lick my spine

up three storied flights
where day has cooked the air to ripe
bare, full glowed-up body shine

study clouds and reclined stems
wavy, dehydrated delirium 
air meets neck beads, shiver-blind

Robert Canali, Wake, 2011 (Archival Pigment Print)


read extendable prose
written on plateaus 
outdated negotiations
on grounds faded, dislocated

where bluffs once rose straight
and rivers would thread through
perhaps just a photo
from peripheral view

like pebble broken skin
echo'd waves diminishing
from a weight 
once held in your palm

worship landscapes askew
body-made, sculptural 
a skirting muse
who lives just to break a spell

Laddie John Dill (Sand & Light Installation), Untitled, 1971



Lourdes Sanchez via vauxvintage


peel, pick & pick, peel
trophies drawn from wavy lines 
 and thick, tangy skin 

sip, suck & suck, sip
ripe, flush with thirsting thoughts of 
 fingers in my mouth

image by Stephanie Sarley