A single shout and you were not the one I thought you were. Cowed by stoplights, horrored by the barking muses. I would never get over those boss-beaten days. Mile long arms. A city dense as a broom closet with a baby in a basket. The Judas in the eyes of passersby. One spot of…
Mama Elsie's ninety now. She calls you whippersnapper. When you two laugh, her rheumatism Slips out the window like the burglar She hears nightly. Three husbands & an only son dead, she says I'll always be a daddy's girl. Sometimes I can't get Papa's face Outta my head. But this boy, my great- Great-grandson, he's…
1. My country material— once aerial as a name—has dropped its soul where ruminating camels cave like children, eyes uppermost. And under their hooves in the sand dolls and scrolls burn and a poem calls to its poet who doesn't respond. Sand melts into glass pocked with the turquoise bubbles water looks like. These are…
The invisible man inside me is crying. He has lightning in his head. His hands fool tentatively with my breasts and all of his legs are dry. The invisible man—I have him surrounded. He is crying blood with his bones in the soup. He is a walking air meal. There is meat in his hair…
for Kate Breathless, emerging into light, we stare with neighboring gargoyles over the square, so cool and blue, of Notre-Dame. Paris, 1969, your birthday: eight-year-old hand in mine. The city unfolds, fairy-tale spires rise to autumn sky, Sacré-Coeur flowers, white peony floating in space. I want this day to be as perfect as your face,…
I. My father believed this was the worst of all possible worlds: he yearned for Australia. This was what he saw: land. That was all. Why he didn't pine for Colorado or Guam I'll never understand. I know nothing of his life except for the details: married at nineteen, left college a year later. He…
Amid our many complaints the president heads a new world order beginning to broadcast. Her skin is never my skin. It is where we cross over to whatever is in store. Her dream is anchored to the pilings, sequences of a goddess talking softly to her boat for a long time. In my…
It is always among sleepers we walk. We walk in their dreams. None of us Knows what he is as he walks In the dream of another. Tell me my name. Your tongue is blurred, honeyed with error. Your sleep's truth murmurs its secret. Tell me your name. Out at the edge, Out in the…
These fish are older than I. Every morning I learn from the koi how to swim in the wind- ruffled pond: the flow of the tail, the fan of the fins in water, eyes open all ways to the shadow-life moving beyond us. Who knows what goes on under the bridge, the plank where I…
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