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  • Unkneeled Prayer of Gratitude

    You’ve given me some hairy forearms, God, and a dark patch on this heaving chest. And, now, I have written my screenplay, eaten the buttered meat of the calabaza with my children. Smiled at a stranger for no goddamn good reason. Blasphemed. Not like Job; I’m reductive, a snot blower, piss-stained this morning, underweared, I…

  • Pigeon

    A chef cuts off your coo, your iridescent neck, eases a small planet from your belly. Once wings and lift, you lie beneath a pinch of black pepper, onion, feel yourself brushed with butter, browned; sense yourself inside an oven: its intimate sky. Your brain was once a compass housed in a binnacle; your beak,…

  • In Line

    Somewhere between here and Louisiana, I changed Pants. The money I carried, each quarter I counted And counted on is missing. Men and women bear Kegs and cartons, bananas and eggs. I need Sugar, some smokes, a single can of coke To get through the margins where I write, Metaphor=tenor+vehicle for children who beg To…

  • Trees as Soldiers March

    Pity the soul for its rotten luck For not being plucked ripe from the air. Whole days spent in cars. I want to wrap the trees like Christo, Invent a salve for the illnesses of my affections. All is silent here. What the fortune-teller Imparted is enveloped in another language. How I struggle just to…

  • 2) St. Augustine: If no one asks me, I know what it is. If I wish to explain it to him who asks me, I do not know.

    Prince calls it little because he imagines a woman’s body waist up, the rest Corvette, which is French for a sort of girlie warship, a chimerical twist on the Freudian cockpit. Who wouldn’t want a belly button for a windshield? All us baby ball turret gunners would submit to mother love as long as we…

  • Video Shoot

    Hard in the barrel, liquid in the hunter’s palm, in the temples of deer eating onion in the lowest section of the dell; a stone’s saddle of holly; a cardinal. If the camera is a gun girls in tiny nothing crash to the bedroom’s bear rug. Courvoisier splashes their made-to-pop, powdered eyes. The girls are…

  • Creationism

    I gave the bathtub purity and honor, and the sky noctilucent clouds, and the kingfisher her implacable devotees. I gave salt & pepper the table, and the fist its wish for bloom, and the net its knotholes of emptiness. I gave the loaf its slope of integrity, the countertop belief in the horizon, and mud…

  • Diabetic

    To imagine the sweetness pushing through my veins like grains of glass scarring a beach when the tide sweeps in. To prick my finger and squeeze a drop of blood, angel rich, earth heavy, onto a test strip. To wait for the meter as it counts, and stare past the little black numbers all the…