Previously published in 2009 at vox poetica dot com

You and I are parentheses


There is a space between us

Unvoiced, ironic, bounded

By thin moons of restraint

Two bodies symmetrically opposed

Enclosing whispered knowings


What comes next must be said


Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 5 Comments

Quirks of Quarks

which make up composite
particles like neutrons and protons,
come in six “flavours” – up, down, strange,
charm, top and bottom – which give those composite
particles their properties. The weak interaction is unique
in that it allows for quarks to swap their flavour
for another. The swapping of those
properties is mediated by
the force carrier

What flavour are you, asked the left-handed particle, and how about you and I do the “half-integer spin,” as I like to call it?

I can see you’re not a “charmer,” she replied (was she a top, or bottom, or maybe a strange? he wondered) but perhaps we could try a little weak interaction, a little swapping of properties, if you know what I mean.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

haiku: west

amber light on clouds —

following the setting sun

still dreaming of you


Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Leave a comment


twelve men stomped their boots

in the sticky lunar soil —

Gene Cernan was last

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , , | 1 Comment

What We Had to Do

Into the orchard
spilled the light of another sun.
Trees bloomed in autumn
too late to set fruit.
Branches bent
with the weight of winter.
Limbs twisted and snapped
like the tortured saints
of a misologeic faith.
So we sharpened the axes.
So we did what we had to do.

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , | Leave a comment


Italicized song lyrics in part 3 copyright Melissa Davis



wheaty sunhat 

red jacket blue jeans

green leaves and stalks

and yellow sunflower

three terra di sienna faces

and hundreds turned away

from the news

riddled with the temporary

does not apply to vast areas

in the heart



red jacket on a field of green

man woman old young

is it you under the brim

of the wheat-colored hat?

a thousand oily black seeds

spiral in the laden disk

you hold in your artist’s hand

small worlds

in the palm of

a tender god



a tender god’s

weary bleary voice

from the buzzing fields

I was takin’ you home

                you never wanted to go

voices like twining ribbons

you let go of my hand

                you un-tethered your soul

from the harmonica breeze

we let go



of the news

the temporary

the vast areas in the heart

and the wheaty sunhat

red jacket blue jeans

green leaves and stalks

and yellow sunflowers

three terra di sienna faces

and hundreds turned away

turned away away away


Collage by artist Melissa Davis

Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | Leave a comment

You and I (and Archimedes)

It is not so easy,

this question of finding yourself.

The first problem is perspective,

a place to stand

outside the distortion

of your own dense atmosphere.

So you train your focus homeward

from a swiftly passing asteroid,

and when you peer beneath

the layers of swirling clouds,

those beautifully pearly distractions,

you realize for the first time

that there is much less solid ground

and much more of ocean depths

and that makes you feel even less buoyant.

Oh, for want of that long lever

and a fulcrum, and a certain 

naive and hopeful recklessness.


Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged , , | 2 Comments