There’s nothing gentle where Aphrodite was. Empty mountain and grasshoppers banging into me. Maybe there never was. But I go up again and again to search under thorn bushes and rocks. Am grateful for the marble upper arm big as my thumb. A shard with a man’s feet and a shard with the feet of…
a rat swam toward me in my hot tub I shut my eyes and took my b.p. by bio-feedback & outside I heard the random snarling of the packs
* 1. First thing to know is, I’d never seen a cello until then, and haven’t since. I didn’t know what to call it. Someone named it cello for me. One day this man appears with it. It was Tiúk. He’d been known to live under rocks. Every so often he arrived with a wood…
It is cold this evening. One of the first cold evenings of autumn. I have your shirt over my own. I am not hungry. I am starving. And I look for the laws of all this. I write down a new name, Cyrene, beloved of Apollo. To look up. To learn about it before spring….
This part of the country is definitely a corner pocket when it comes to word music. For instance although he’s got a tin ear over there under the palm trees and Nazi architecture of Cal Tech the only poet/editor in SoCal who can fit an entire cantaloupe in his mouth without opening his lips is…
“Blind are still the eluded eyes.” That’s Swinburne, who would not interest, hardly an author for this trip taken away from me, this time by your own choice, not your mother’s. I smile, you flash inflamed brown eyes, letting me see that no good will and certainly no money paid to the lady clerk who…
Two people stood quarreling in the Casket Showing Room. They were a sixty-three-year-old man named Marlyn Huutula and his unmarried sister Estona. She was so angry that she bent towards him from her end of the coffin. "You really ought to keep your grimy hands out of that clean quilting!" Estona told him in a…
At six this morning the moon is ragged on one side but smiling as if a mild wind were blowing. Not any more indentured. The beginnings of color please her. She thinks of the one who dreamed of her and stayed behind on the island. Imagines walking to him through the empty cafe. To say…
Those bungalows of San Roque so perfect yet oddly sad (“a little wood & stucco to keep the sun out”) always remind me of where the Nelson family lived way back in the days of Hi Oz Hi Pop Hi Rick Hi David. Everybody in that family was Okay every day for a whole decade….
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