Vanishing Act

 

I’ve lost two more pounds I say that’s fourteen total now

the APRN stops scrolling the blood test results

how do you feel

I feel good and go on

to explain how the ridges of  my upper rib cage

reflected in a mirror

surprised me

to myself I scroll through mental images

of gaunt shipwrecked sailors

and stereotypical scarecrows

 

I’ve upped my protein intake

If you want to gain you need carbohydrates

are you telling me as a medical professional

to eat more pasta

she won’t commit to that

but I call it a win

 

that night the skeleton attempts to debate me

muscle mass versus bone and cartilage

without my framework

you would be nothing do you hear me

nothing

 

[RK, 4/19/2026]

 Whole Foods

 

quinoa, barley, amaranth, millet, and oats

as long as the pantry jars are

replenished with brown grains

full of the necessary nutrients

and essential amino acids

there is no way I could die

and leave all this food behind

 

well that’s a wish

that will probably

not come to pass

 

I’ll pack the jars into a

separate paragraph in the

final will and testament

 

would you eat them

knowing how they were incapable of

actually sustaining life?

 

[RK, 4/6/2026]

Disorder

A tabletop full 

of early spring flowers.

A pantry crammed 

with empty vessels.

No one feels 

like eating.

[LSS, 3/16/26]

Bus Stop on the Diagonal Line

Two people talk

while 

two people eavesdrop 

while

two people record

the conversation.

[LSS, 3/7/26] 

 Infrathin part 3

First Poet: Dictionary pages painted/marked with India ink. Then placed between sheets of paper vellum/tracing paper and stitched all over to hold the layers together. Pages then cut into 1” squares. One page of squares restitched into a chain is 58” long.

Second Poet: Wow Duchamp died in 1968, we were all alive at the same time.

[LSS & RK, 3/7/2026]

 

Stop, Don’t Stop

First Poet: The eye wanders over an unfinished work of art and hopes that it will never be completed.

Second Poet: yet there are innumerable rest stops along the way

bitter coffee in chipped mugs

ordering "today's special"

pretending to fight over the last slice of rural pie

standing in a dusty gravel parking lot beneath a rising moon

the inescapable scent of freshly mown alfalfa perfuming the night air

cattle rustlers you only hear about

lonely couples leaning against pickup trucks

atypical country swing music

sawdust across dance floors

coyotes prowling where the streetlights end

 

the last cherry Lifesaver from a roll is a sign

that finishing is okay and you can say

‘this is my stop, let me off here”

 

[LSS & RK, 3/6/2026]

Interior View

When there is nothing left to think

about today, I draw a picture 

of my new titanium hip. It comes out 

looking like Camano Island. 

After that, I find a stale fortune 

cookie under the refrigerator.  

“You are/are not an island,” 

it says. “Circle one.” 

There are no lucky numbers.

[LSS, 3/1/26] 

Fortune Cookie

mine had winning lottery numbers

I paid $2 for a Lotto

nothing matched

I made tea with your shredded letter

it played mumblety-peg with my digestive system

checked the mailbox three times

slipped the mail carrier a twenty

he handed me a new patient flyer

for a local dentist named Cookie Poe

I chewed on that the rest of the day

until I cracked a wisdom tooth

unfortunately

and she had to put me under

 

[RK, 1/11/2026 ]

Morning Report

A wall of paper fortunes and threads, 

a letter shredded, made into tea,

the dream of order slipped 

into every cup in my cupboard.

I’m as happy as I’ve ever been.

[LSS, 10/27/25, 10:27 a.m.]

 Infrathin part 2 (a dialogue between day and dreams)

First Poet – The New México trip reminded me of the importance of being a part of an artists’ group. We stayed at a ranch that was once an artists’ retreat. Huxley, O’Keeffe, Lawrence. All stayed there from time to time. It made me thankful for my local art groups and our writing project.

Second Poet – I just had a long dream about a multi-artist art opening in a huge gallery. My old friend Tim was the star of the night - they were taking his work off the walls after selling the items, and then putting up more of his work. I felt myself illuminated by his star glow. It was a great show and a great crowd.

All the artwork was meaningful and amazing.

Since the stroke I have the most incredible and lengthy dreams

FP – Dreams are a gift. I look forward to falling asleep after reading at night. I love dreaming.

I never have nightmares.

SP – I believe that

FP – Bizarre dreams, yes, lots of those.

SP – I so wanted that gallery dream to be real

FP – How would you describe “meaningful?”

SP – give me a few minutes on that one

The work was both efficacious and socially relevant without being didactic.

FP – More social than personal in meaning?

SP – It triggered viewers in a positive way

I imagine all social relevance is tied to the personal

let me amend that to 'politically/socially relevant'

FP – Timely. Current. In that direction?

SP – yes, the always evolving social zeitgeist

FP – Got it.

 

[RK 10/24/2025]

 

Infrathin part 1

“A mystery interstellar object discovered last week is likely to be the oldest comet ever seen – possibly predating our solar system by more than three billion years, researchers say. The object was first spotted on 1 July 2025 by the ATLAS survey telescope in Chile, when it was about 670 million km from the Sun. The ‘water ice-rich’ visitor, named 3I/ATLAS, is only the third known object from beyond our solar system ever spotted in our cosmic neighbourhood and the first to reach us from a completely different region of our Milky Way galaxy. It could be more than seven billion years old, according to University of Oxford astronomer Matthew Hopkins.” – Newly discovered interstellar object 'may be oldest comet ever seen' | The Royal Astronomical Society [retrieved 10-24-2025]

you said I’ve been talking about death since we met

well death was here twice now

grabbing my ankles and shaking me upside down

in a hasty bid for spiritual loose change

one night the house became so quiet

that the shadows strived to escape

since then I have difficulty sleeping in darkness

I want to believe that after all my decades of

posturing and theorizing

the telescope finally swung in the correct direction

seeing things that were always there

but which I never looked for

nor knew existed

tumbling for billions of years

before threatening this thin fabric

[RK 10/24/2025]

Marginal Note

The glue spreaders are dying  

and the eaves are drying

after their nightly cry.

Nothing sticks anymore.

The singularity of doing

something for the first time,

the myth, the superstition, 

the melancholy. 

We must imagine Sisyphus 

happy, Camus tells us,

doing the same thing everyday 

as if it were the first time.

[LSS, 12/3/24]

Couplet

When you wake up you will see 

all of the houses are now trees.

[LSS, 12/3/24]

What The Falcon Knows

in 1992 you and your children watched the sparrowhawk

tear apart a songbird, steaming guts in the snow

much better than the make-believe violence of

Saturday morning cartoons

thirty-four years later I pause on the paved

bicycle trail beneath miles of high-voltage wires

stretched between iron pylons parallel

to splintered wood poles moving electricity

into houses and mobile home parks

two kestrels perch there, occasionally dropping down

for lizards and grasshoppers

a short lifespan of less than five years

fires the intensity of patient waiting and

promises of fulfilling meals

just watching them makes me hungry

for things I can no longer experience

the first time

[RK, 11/28/24]

“Naked in the Snow”

“It could be kind of Scandinavian,”

he says about the title he’s suggesting, 

“but don’t show any bodies.  

You’re not good at bodies.”

[LSS, 11/22/24]   

 In Media Res

Not for beginners.

[LSS, 11/21/24]

In Media Res: Lullaby

When opening any one of my sketchbooks to any random page 

you are likely to find a house floating above its foundation,

no lag bolts, no tethers, no long chains of thought holding it down.

The house you will find on any random page

will never be my first house, if I ever had a first house, 

but always the house I am drawing right now.

[LSS, 11/21/24] 

Last Accessed

You say
We are always turning the pages
to the same page
Not the same page over and over again
but some random, successive page

I say
I’m going to use that phrase

You say
It’s a poem, your poem

I say
possession is nine-tenths of the connection
positively charged electrodes and copper wires
making your dream house elevator
function properly
those tight line drawings distort perspective
the cabin becomes a mansion
the yurt becomes a pyramid
all that time invested in the exact placement
of rooms and doors

I say
we are always opening the doors
to the same room
not the same room over and over again
but some random, successive room

[RK, 11/16/24]

Updating the Password Book

The synchronicity of a new password 

entered onto the blank line

and the ending of a period of mourning 

for all the things you thought 

would never change.

[LSS, 11/16/24]

The New World

Here I have made my life 

again and again and again 

remembering what it is

to live my life again.

[LSS, 6/27/24]

Home Depot

I love the tiger lily 

you brought 

home for me today; 

repair projects 

never end.

[LSS, 5/31/24]

T-minus 11

Burned toast, raw yolk,

a few last words

on the unswept floor.

[LSS, 5/7/24]