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Thomas Williams (email)


Crux Ansata

Dawn exposes herself here

Gives herself with tax

In the East, then, the West


Mist steams off grass blades

Animals’ calls slide through

the orange sheets of light,

where exact shadows ink

smiling abstractions upon the soil


New cruxes begin in beds

Or streets or floors and futons

The same old stresses loved to be hated

Missed when they are gone,

Loathed when they appear


Night, are you better for peace

At least, if we can sleep then



Invisible Sandwich

Notice money is not handed

to you in exchange for food

because we don’t kill anymore


We speak     and the feat is

a phenomenon, but curses

spread and bones are spread too

over invisible sandwiches

promised to the starving


Skinnier than dead trees, but

organs pump inside while

a different, fat heart palpitates

from caffeine intake watching

the flies tap dance on chapped skin


The standing, cosmic malnourished

frame falls and passes back into

a watershed dream we can never see


A place where sandwiches are for free



Shady Bones

Peel my face off

Watch the rain drop backwards

and rub cigarettes out on my skull

Twisting to

a table

Where I sit within

a drunken nebula

Suns are memories and

gods are regrets


Fellow skeleton-men, smoking

and playing ‘Texas Hold ‘Em’

Betting heart attacks

and disloyal wives

as naughty daughters hump

boyfriends raw

Calling dealers

handing a method

to eat holes in the brain

and suck scum off sex

she’s never smelled




“Officer down!’

Caressed the potency

of the ill-slaked crystal

Flesh is no more

and breath is

vacuumed out like

grime from lazy-faced carpet


Dirty love

to fix yourself


Yes, dearest, worlds are shattered

to repair you.