Tag: counterfield
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⭢clean_slide
He sat erect on the faded sofa and looked down at the coffee table and the gun sitting on it. A Glock. His Glock. He picked it up, feeling the weight. He released the magazine with a click and placed it on the table and closed his eyes. Once, on that freighter with the fuel…
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The West
There are eight sober tones. They reverberate through my body— then elsewhere.
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Final Instructions
The descent continues through ordinary systems and instructions that almost make sense. A hotel, a train platform, a receipt. Nothing dramatic happens. The language moves.
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Terminal Reflection
In the quiet of a late terminal, small movements and reflections no longer align as they should.
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Sine Qua Non
In the quiet machinery of a hospital room, breath becomes the only measure that matters. Monitors, pressure, oxygen, and a single circle of light hold the body in place while language begins to break apart. A poem about collapse, necessity, and the thin line between care and oblivion.
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Basement Level Two
I walk through hard light and fractured shadows. My footsteps echo before the drone absorbs them.
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The Last Bus
A late-night scene near a bus stop changes when a person walks through a pool of light and stops in shadow. The insects fall silent, the breeze stills, and the speaker waits as the moment deepens. A poem about night, attention, and the subtle shift from calm to unease.
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The Beforetimes
In the cooking room, the kettle begins to sing, and her voice answers — calling a name I no longer trust belongs to me.
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Under the Bridge
The damp comes off the river, seeping into clothing, and the sodium light struggles under the bridge’s arc. When the curlew’s wail rises with the storm, the night strikes its bargain with the river, and silence follows
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Bitch; a reflection.
A layered reflection on loyalty, exposure, and refusal: Carolyn Kizer’s “Bitch” occluded beneath anatomical engraving, pop-lyric fragments, and a haunting Dorthia Cotterell lyric.
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Sodium Zone
City bridge after hours: mattress, tent, algae-slick rocks. The light cuts, metal scrapes, light returns—and the scene holds.
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Little Hooks
A poem of moons and tides, of memory’s splinters and small betrayals that lodge like hooks, refusing to leave.
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Compliance is Efficiency
A doctrine-voice poem where the system audits, cascades, and moves non-performing units below grade—cold recursion to a chilling clinch.
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Government Brain Serums Hidden In Street Signs Are Controlling The Schoolteachers
A paranoia-spiral poem: dog walkers, red leashes, barcodes, and the system that wants your eyes.
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A Process for the Creation of a Revenant
A ritual poem of death and rebirth, where incantation speaks to life, silence, and the border in-between.
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Survival is Entropy
A system-voice poem where doctrine fractures, survival.exe and order.exe looping toward collapse.