1. When they are babies, don’t put them down, even for the telephone 2. Feed them whenever they want 3. They must not cry! (Colic can be relieved by placing them, belly down, on the dryer, while it is running warm) 4. Don’t make them sleep alone 5. Sleep with them until they are four…
A woman sobs on the toilet. Hearing her through the wall, I imagine the pink lace unraveled from her nightgown as she strokes her knees. Upstairs there’s a pop. I suppose a retired barber spread lather on a balloon to test his swollen hands; now he’ll hang himself. No, perhaps two teenagers shyly undressing for…
Transience of all things mutability odes ruins something any thing two step. In college I had a teacher he wrote a book One Man’s Meter he sang Keats to “You’re the cream in my coffee” and advised me “Read a good book after dinner every night.”
I chose a forest, once, bridges of branches, animal tunnels, This forest spoke to me—basso profundo My outer balance was maintained by setting Space from fore and hind, in direct proportion to Nature’s inclines Inside, I put my bedroom in the basement, ate in the attic and talked and worked in the middle Rearranged the…
A row of green and blue bottles, the light coming through hits a spot on the floor where the cat lies down. A young woman strokes the cat, examines her own fingernails holds onto her plane ticket away from her understanding. To the assassin’s sleeping brain. To the true image of the universe. To a…
Grace. When the child is asleep you hold me with arms hewn like your wood and whisper: Grace. It is your name for me. You believe in prophecy. You are a proud father. I stroke your forehead, wrinkles lead down to the beard. You are not a handsome man. You want more children. I am…
We always wait for dusk the shallowing of the air and cool aggression of the unexpected People doom their porches like owls Lights fill the ball park In summer this is the only time of day Couples drift towards the river in the haze of each other Night’s unmade bed rolls them out again The…
Night. His arm stretches against dark and the pouch I carry without grace or mystery is lighter. We are young but each child will take more my youth than his. (Little one, you hold to me like a swimmer. I balance preciously for you.) There are no miracles in our lives. We couple sometimes and…
Smash! All of us looked up from our roast lamb and new potatoes. Grandmother had dropped a plate. Or rather, as those of us who hadn’t been poking about in the watery creamed spinach had noticed, she had hurled her plate to the floor. Or rather, as a moment’s reflection taught us, she had in…
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