We are all ventricle, spine, lung, larynx, and gut.
Clavicle and nape, what lies forked in an open palm;

we are follicle and temple. We are ankle, arch,
sole. Pore and rib, pelvis and root

and tongue. We are wishbone and gland and molar
and...

Of Tribulation, these are They,
Denoted by the White.
— Emily Dickinson


Pained, permanent
wakefulness

Exposed
in the split geode

a Santa’s grotto
Jagged milk

quartz crusts
constitute

every surface —
a mouth

all teeth
self-sharpening

like sea urchins’ —
“Uncomfortably beautiful”

toughened glass
spikes

in the doorways
of award-

winning offices
 — rough

sleepers from the womb
condemned

to make of anything succulent
rock

of porticoes
iron maidens

That was the year we drove
into the commune in Cornwall.
“Jesus Jim,” mam said,
“back up quick they’re hippies.”

Through the car window,
tents, row after row, flaps open,
long-haired men and women
curled around each other like babies

and the babies themselves
wandered naked across the grass.

I...

In the warmth of night I put feet to my plan: waited
for my brothers to sleep. They’d spent the day
sharpening their hooks, repairing the great net,
filling gourds with fresh water. They’d bundled
taro wrapped in leaves sitting below the cross seats.
The...