Poetry

We step onto the lake, empty platter of white. Dark huts dot the drifted, scalloped vastness, huts of the regular men. We go way out and dig, leather mittens lapping the snow. The ice below is a black mirror, black as an animal's eye! I am sure we have found something new that no one…

First the slow dream of bourbon and gasoline Horses bare their teeth as they are herded into boxcars Leaves rustle at the edge of a soccer field Then motorcades drift through clean intersections And the pedestrians stalled if only for seconds Watch their own reflections shrink in store windows Next they throw the plastic down…

Towering billboards line the Plaza of the History of Great Ideas. They're empty and maybe it's blessing. No more scratch your ass—walk around. No more wondering: is this tragic hayride a major or minor outing? And one could've said something so provocative once. The concession stand, for instance, was run by a tyrant. He beat…

When you were first born, your eyes were blue and you couldn't see but what you felt was real. In the crib you screamed against the bars and no one came and that was knowing. The milk pale blue from the mother's breast shone through your new skin. A lode of fear and hiding place…

I was happy once for nine days. My housekeeper found a novena for hopeless cases on her seat in church, a prayer to be recited every day for nine days, and she thought she might as well say it for me since I had been complaining of hard times. She apologized for calling me a…

Only the fluttering pages of a few songbooks left. At the bar, the large, gawky males idle over jigsaw puzzles: sailing ships in profile, sad steamers adrift on a wedge of unbelievable blue. Tired of running, the rugged womenfolk nodded off hours ago. Where else to dream on a chilly night, the planet hurtling down…

This is when you unloose what you know      she hit me      she hit me This day opens and its flowers like winter breaths lift as they open wider, into leopard paws, into baskets of snow. The sleeping world loosely rocks on its hinge. Now your hand drifts open and shut. Rise up childlike on the…

I climb the stairs to your loft. You open to me with a cold desirous stare which frightens me. You show me your toys musical instruments, clappers, mallets, drums electronic equipment. Rehearsal city, you say. You show me your room, your bed. Everything is brown. You give me tea. You play the music you have…

After fifteen-years, after surveyors dug up what they had buried, we learned that the neighbor's lilacs were really ours and you could take flowers before dark. Let's go out now, Mother, before tea and cut handfuls. Then while we fill jars with aspirins and ice, you can tell me that you memorized every back road…