stackable Tupperware

promise to lift us up
and swallow us instead

encase and surround us
next thing you know

we’re as fresh
as next week’s bread

they contain us, exactly
like we were made to fit

and the stay fresh sound
of the snap tight lid

is a promise that we
will be OK—take a picture

to show to anyone left
outside, “we like it here,

no really, we do. c’mon,
you’ll like it inside”


desiccated echinoderm
dangle in the window from a thread
glass your ocean
sky your blue
at night a little light
shines upon you and
you sparkle like a star


steel’s the tower
steel’s the car
steel’s the railway
steel’s the destroyer
steel’s the Brooklyn Bridge
steel’s the gold
steel’s the water
steel’s the spirit
steel’s the thing


with each pulse my heart see-saws
between life and death
a decision, not a decision
i will live, i will die

this is the price we pay
but do not mourn,
do not mourn for me
tonight, in the street
stop-light’s red glare
fills the night with passion


the moon hangs from a stick
so we can see the night


shark of the asphalt sea
not to be confused with the sudden lane changer
the rogue parking exiter
the does not know the meaning of stop
taxi is above and beyond all these
as it is all and more
the only true species of its ocean
speed bump, stop sign, lane marker,
traffic light ordained, power line hemmed,
the endless wall of mall windows passes by
as you ride inside,
swallowed by the purity of the urge
car for hire, most natural thing
on the road


telephone is from a different time
exists sometime else
signals readiness when
we are supposed to pick it up
listen to it tell us
now’s the time
living hand to mouth
do as we are told


in the bathtub
i am a whale
i am leviathan
filling the basin
until i stretch its sides
making continents of soap
and oceans in my navel

floating serene
the water supporting my incredible bulk
i watch my ripples
send crashing down
the towers of mind and thought