*Ed.’s Note: click images to view larger sizes.
HOW EVERY LIVING THING IS IN ITSELF A HOUSE ON FIRE
 the dwellings we are as dirt, our pillars raised quieter than blood.
 the vessels we are as ghosts; wet like fingers, treading the dry of leaves.
 the lines we are as birds; cages held in ransom; the back of a mirror or a lens.
 the paper we are as thieves, how we build ourselves from calendars of disarray.
 the ashes we are as words; notes best written where an ocean will think to look.
 the echoes we are as wood; projectors dirtied with dreams of becoming fire.
David Tomaloff is a very important something. His work has appeared in several chapbooks, anthologies, and in fine publications such as Connotation Press, Sundog Lit, Lost in Thought, AMinor, and HTML Giant. He is coauthor of the collaborative poetry collection You Are Jaguar (Artistically Declined Press, 2012), and he has recently finished work on another collaborative effort, this time with J. Scott Bugher, titled Ledger & String. His latest chapbook, Sleep, is forthcoming from Plain Wrap Press. His silence can be bought. Reasonable offers accepted: davidtomaloff.com.