Category: poems

  • Stay in Touch

    In the main body of address Nostalgia divides the head again and again Beginning, middle, end hidden between fragments Against the future’s need a hand closes

  • The Questions

                      for Robert Creeley     Living part trap part rap-t ure How to spring it How to give oneself up to it

  • The Difficult Ideal

    If you accept fate’s feats you will be guided Otherwise, pulseless disguises compete We either give or withhold heartbeats

  • am

    It is not the wild glare Of the world even that one dies in.                                                       -George Oppen Somewhere in America it says you must die, you know too much.                                                       -John Ashbery     goodbye old face pour nous climate brief changlings you know waking in compressed dark the work felt inside of suffering that will not […]

  • From Nigidius Figulus Reads the Stars (after Lucan)

                               For Peter O’Leary 1. When pendant forms fall, and the wind describes a line, forms follow. Smoke’s own common cause is clear, is law. Skin covers bone as smoke fills the form – law leaves one meaning for the yolk or none: death, or the origin of the wren.     2. High pine, sycamore, […]

  • Eighteenth Amanita Ode : Equinox

    Early spring’s unruly over- fecundation, that perfume-mash of June weather, the blooming, taffy-scented star magnolia, forsythias, crocuses, lilies the eye requires time to differentiate but lacks— the waxy sound of the ruffian wind. What stirs. In the earth. Seriously. What fruits in the soil’s cereal drum prepare to push up to the crust to join […]

  • Fifteenth Amanita Ode : My Wife’s Cough

    sounds like nothing else on Earth. Seals trapped in an underwater cavern barking in unison. Throbs of a chainsaw cutting into petrified cloud. Sonagrams of a witch’s cauldron. Pneumonia’s dynamite. A puzzling, detonated speech form. It’s a violence in her esoteric core sounded out in nocturnal code, a phlegmy mesh of hexes whose tissue mushrooms […]

  • Ordinary Time

    Subway preacher’s din of truth, he pities us, each and every redundancy, day in day out through tunnels, boxes on a chain Dios mio, Dios mio faces flicker in frames each in his own office.       · · ·       Colicky boy, no words for what he knows he needs to hush some […]

  • Time

    Sun through sleet coppers a bare and brittle limb so underneath I see it, the sudden pavement, first naked corner, exactly where we stood yesterday in our boots and beside it emerge thawed clumps of edging sod. We gather fingers into a pulse knot and join the compact earth, loosening by dint of what else, […]