transom ambush
[|] the window red is window [|] reading blood [|]
a brooding wind [|] proposes something in a swarm
of silk [|] out there [|] is a breathing task [|] to squint
the throat for something calm [|] inhales darkness
through a frosty glass [|] spirits calling on the crimson
tongue [|] a lasting question [|] the dew on the window
drips [|] exhausting dusk [|] in velvet red [|] the ringing
in the head that aches & tells this glass to tremble [|]
tells this raspy angle [|] what it means to trust a house
logic laundering
the paranormal clucks
at logic’s deep sweat
clocks in too deep reflect illogical fabric, rag sweat glistens
gaffer fabrication deepens in the shadow
cosmicity the image the cloth the rain meant
in logic to demoralize sweat
pallid rags luff by the indoor wind, deep
in the lining lows
a gnarled face
what is meant of the shepherd is abnormal in the robe
psychology of garments hanging on a line
windowless sensory
solitude’s zoology
shifts in the dark cellar
damp & a collar
on the broken neck
rafters drip some
pungent substance
through the umbral
torture what gathers
there—clustered
postures of rats
in confluence with the tenement gnaw on deep secrets
nothing collaborates with light
the findings in
unmentioned pith
allows owls
turning thoroughly
thoughtless
dirt to reach
the ghost
yawning bloody in the canal, carnal
the fixture to resemble its negative
against seeing the twitched
nerve again the cave against
observing again the knew
m O o n
Cameron Lovejoy is a self-taught poet and fine printer living in New Orleans. He operates Tilted House, a small press focused on intimately made handbound books. His work can be found or is forthcoming in Denver Quarterly, DIAGRAM, Ghost Proposal, and others.