A sharp stick

In rough hands


Searching plains

To make bodies temples


Over wood fires

Quietly smokes rise


To industry

(and thanking, we ate)


Today struggle becomes clammy fingertips

Yearning for


The slick touch

Of some ancient bones

That time had turned to sludge


But we're

Always seeking

Always making new temples



Today I read about normcore

In the blogosphere

Which my god is such a gas these days


And why I'm a failure if by 30

I don't own two sets of sheets

(now I have a goal at least)


One awful video showed children

Searching rubble for things to eat


There's a woman in Sweden.

Or Finland or Iceland.

You know what I mean.


She cooks in a coffee maker

Noodles and toast and bacon and lamb hearts.

Such novelty!


We're not exactly in the habit of suffering, you understand

It's not our fault though

Don't beat yourself up


The second half of this set of poems, EPILOGUE, appeared in the Columbia Art League Interpretations juried show