Through Hell and what he saw the dead one thereI wrote a poem of the dead one goingAnd who alive is more than that the deadOne going and who is less how he was ledThrough by a bird named Law like law all-knowingWhere all is anguish and guilt spoils the air And now to write again I ask…
Some turnto the kitchen sink,I prefer backyards.Perfect noonfor cleaning mackerel. No gloves.Squat low and leanforward. Fine drizzleon Moringa,scaling. Scatter of silver. Blood smear.Gutting innardsis more addictivethan love or tea.Spawning clouds of August. Last night,I dreamed of wakinginto you, lazilyinhaling monsoon.Moon seeding in my womb.
Called widow makers because their branches fallduring droughts. They sever their own branches to conserve water, to save the whole tree. As if cuttingoff a hand to save a whole body. How does the tree decide what to drop? This one dropped two limbs,one onto a car. It only took the men a day to remove the…
No matter where I went todayI was not Michael.I was not even the shadowof my middle name.No name took my place,no name was asked.When I sat on a benchthinking of you, tryingto see your face,I was not Michael—I knew because the rainchose to fall nearbut not upon me,and it wasn’t to makean exception.People were walking…
Friday—first day of fall Two friends, two beers each. One has just held the hand of theother’s dying mama, regaling her with tales of her son’smisadventures. He’s moving to Houston the next day, far intothe flooding swamp. Mama is quiet, peaceful, pain-free. Go, shesays, go have a good time. After the two beers the friends…
My roommate was having an argumentwith his girlfriend: It’s the wrong key. No it’s not. Well it isn’t working. Once you and I had disagreements like that,I ended it. But there was a pointwhen I had a codeto your front door. People had the wrong idea about us.No socks on the stairswas one of your…
I divide my time between the NewYork in my mind and a cow-sprouted field, divide my rightear from my left, though the leftreceives god-like frequencies onlymy poodle can hear. I divide myliver from my brain when I swillwine and smoke. Divide my sunnydisposition from the sun it neverowned. Divide my body frommy bed, home from…
There was a poisoning.Perhaps from the reincarnation ages ago where your hands curled and stitchedthe fake flower bouquets of 1860, dusted them with Scheele’s green,the arsenic powder breathed into your child lungs. Or maybe before that,like Napoleon, copper sulfate from a papered bedroom settled like a secretinto your waistcoat and gloves. Centuries have passed since…
“How much are you willing to sacrifice?”the spandex-suited antagonist asksin the movie I have decided to rentalmost without thought, it being Friday, late,my wife’s body sprawled impressivelyacross the couch so that I decide, finally,to sit slouched on the floor beneathmy pile of blankets, but now, in the dark,my nose close to the screen, the villainspeaking…
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