Darkness dies
When you feel love 

That abyss
Once hovering open 
Now closed 

There are fondling strokes
And tentative stares 

Cold is now warm
Half is now whole
Bitter is now sweet 

The words you reach for
Limited to only that of cheer 

Diet on it
Let love kill

That dark part of you

Happy Valentines Day 


With a furiously veined left hand
I prick the bubble with a sharp nail
And reach for the splatter with my tongue
Bitter is all I taste
My mood goes limp, cold too
And when my name is called

There is only that taste
It lingers long 

Someone spoke to me in stomach rumbles 
Another in snores and yet another in clicks of the tongue
We translate these sounds into taste
And like the bitter 
It lingers long 


Predators Made Prey


Watching frum behind thick brush and pine, inna few bounds I could eat, but waiting. I turn the predators intuh prey as they tour the insides of what looks like a mountain grown tuh perfection with open crevices allowing meh tuh see clearly what I am stalking.

With thair strange gaits, upright and formal, I follow as they move thru the many layers: up slightly, tuh the left, tuh the left and disappearing fur a while, tuh the right, up slightly, up slightly, down slightly, down slightly, down a corridor, tuh the right intuh a dimly lit cave and disappearing fur a while, up slightly, up slightly, down slightly, down slightly, tuh the right, tuh the left, down a corridor, tuh the right intuh a brightly lit cave.

All this time I move, keeping the throats where I will place mah teeth in plain view. In the cave they sit vulnerable. They move little, sitting so stagnant, thair heart beats slowing, thair blood flowing steadily feeding the brain where the thoughts they have originate but only escape frum a few mouths at a time. I want tuh liberate the grip I keep on mah muscles, preventing meh frum leaping, bounding, devouring.

As I watch, I begin tuh understand them and hoe they let thair bodies fester in stillness and allow thair communication tuh do most of the moving. The blonde appeals to me like the sun when I am cold and since all others have darker fur I am hungry for what will hopefully satisfy most. I keep mah eyes on her and begin tuh release the tension in mah crouched body and start closing the distance between where I stalk with my stomach thundering from hunger, tuh where I soon will feed therefore quieting the storm.

The closer I get, the more mah mouth waters and excitement makes mah nose drip since they have yet tuh even look over. When I ready mah pounce, I raise mah head and suddenly I am facing another of mah kind. I roar and since they are mimicking mah every move, they do roar too, gathering the attention of mah prey as they all turn and look placidly at something thair long-haired pack leader gestures tuh.

With mah head low, I leave behind good meat; some with good bones, others with bad joints, some with sharp nails and others with dull, and all with blood I would have liked tuh get drunk on. They benefit under the protection of what seemed like a reflection of meh, but the part of meh that does not feed, choosing instead tuh protect like bears I’ve seen with thair cubs or deer with thair does or geese with thair ducklings.

Defeated, I follow the scent of the deer I smelled earlier, climbing up the tall mountain, almost tuh the top. As I enjoy mah feast on the solitary deer, the tang of fear spicy on mah tongue, I hear mah former prey communicating in the open as a herd, moving at a walking pace and then galloping down the mountain and fur a moment I think I can hear them talking about an encounter one of them had with mah mother.

Sounding Out! Podcast #12: Animal Transcriptions: Listening to the Lab of Ornithology

Sounding Out!

CLICK HERE TO DOWNLOAD: Animal Transcriptions: Listening to the Lab of Ornithology


This podcast culls material from seven hours of interviews about sound and animal life with scientists, engineers, programmers, archivists and other staff working in the Bioacoustics Research Program (BRP) and in the Macaulay Library of Natural Sounds (LNS) at the Cornell Lab of Ornithology. The interviews were conducted as part of a research project situated at the intersection between sound in poetry (prosody) and environmental sound (soundscape), specifically focused on animal vocalizations.

Poetry might help us to use, study, and deploy animal morphologies in ways that hope to better, rather than merely exploit, the human relation with such life forms, if not to improve the welfare of the species themselves. As Katy Payne, Mike Webster and others suggest, when we speak of animal “song,” we bring metaphors from the arts of…

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some poetry from my honors thesis

Left tuh waste, mah mind hardens tuh rock, rocks soften tuh brain. Surviving on mah toes many times over. Taunted by mah captors with thair reproductive organs; the sun, guy, and the moon, gal. Day and night 1 watch the sky revolve. Splatters frum a flightless bird make way intuh mah eye and 1 look creepier than before. A living skeleton 1 prepare to lay in mah grave, but 1m let to step frum the cave. 1 stand benith the masculine sky only to be heaved off the cliff. Every atom belonging to meh falls intuh the ponds pupil. Thru the blue iris 1 see 1m not alone- many other humans fight the reeling waves. They too brink on the edge of existence. A small voice in mah mind brings us tuhgether and with our bony hands forming as one, we rub the iris until the sky spreads its legs. We float as fallen leaves and wait fur the sun tuh take us tuh relay on the humpbacks of clouds. Mah senses are leeched senseless as 1 am carried thru pupil and lens, thru vitreous bodi and optic nerve, coming tuh in nature’s brain. 1 grow. 1 leech. 1 recover and breach.

An Excerpt From A Short Story

Note – Say 1 like i & 1t like it & meh like me & mah like my

1 feel like person, animal, part of nothing, whole of everything. 1 can’t breathe whereas once 1 done did could. Herds of smog crowd the air, fogs deplored secound cousin whom 1 noe well 1 do. The buildings, erect like what hangs between the thighs of man and feman, erupt frum the ground like trees. They inhale without exhaling. Feeling trapped 1 am. Deprived of the liberty of wide open space that 1 am for sure. What hides within meh, like the crowns of the trees that reel, is asphyxiating beneath the wind 1t respires. 1t is to be revealed only thru the peeling back of flesh, the atrophy then of the muscle, will 1t be seen by naked human eye. A man walks bye. He has two eyes that he do, but one is hanging frum the socket like a pendulum bobbing against his cheek. It is still attached somehoe and 1’m not at all sure if he can still see thru it. The part it hangs frum looks like an arm without skin. The arm is mah stalk and eye am 1ts blossom. This is hoe 1 came to bud.