Three Prose Poems

A man hiked through the Faron region to the ridge where he sat upon a rocky beach near the Riola Spring watching a water snake whorl in the cool-clear basin, slip-smiling between refracted sunbeams that pierced the invisible surface.

Four Poems

You are optimized integrals and algorithms without a bedtime, without friends or YouTube videos to watch, while I exist in this body with organs, yours without, the rhizomatic tendrils of an imagined player, a threat, a test to improve my own play style.


I hope you’re still watching these numbers grow
because the sun refuses to set and I cannot
extract the sound of axe on trunk, of the split body

from my bones. I keep growing sharper
because the sun refuses to set and I cannot
separate the chaff of all this cold experience

The Computer Imagines Me a Boy

Broad-chested, flat
And just out of reach

Perched as he is
A clenching boy

On his digital horse
Crooked incisors flashing

Cruis’n Is Made for Love

and every second with you counts
more than any stunt
this is us against the world
against an ever-emerging backdrop
of paper mache mountains penetrated
by snake skin tunnels, of pyramids
and other representative landscapes