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In the Post Office
Immense jostling in East Fourteenth Street to be traversed, something in the mode of jackhammers, truck horns, people skipping past automobiles, to enter the high cool interior of the post office, but changed that day because it was the first day of the most recent rise in postage rates, and the place was in complete […]
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Form (for Merle Haggard)
"Long Black Limousine" depends so much upon mistakes: a missed turn "the curve nobody seen"
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Angel Face (after Dmitri Tiomkin’s score)
To thumb through a stack of blank paper as though thumb though thumb — might stumble (maybe) across a page nee sheet already staffed with a dumbwaiter falling for the stock feed from rewrite — deus -ex-LeMans racer- cum-ambulance co-Charon — dupe of the ubiquitous minor rising from a baby grand entr’acte — a bete-a-bete […]
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from Morning Practice
incandescent for in backing up colleagues found high levels finding the spot for the car the merger would give him coming to a stop better buildings, more buildings coffee’s hot, snow is falling still explaining · · · for its lack of rules a mental list uncoiling not grinding to a halt is morning still […]
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Untitled
low sun shows us a lone warbler over by the reed beds * stop stand still and listen * the clear air sharpens his song’s edge * sedge and hedgerow glow in late light
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To Iron Mountain
They are disassembling the shelves Rearranging the pallets, loading the semis The guards are killing the daughters Or the daughters are killing the guards The cards are put on the table Hands rapping out rhythms Spirit rapping in the newspapers And in the history books written by the sisters Ghosts of the family held hostage […]
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Minute Gears
The minute gears mutely whir. To put your ear Against it is to put your ear inside it. It does not tick. It isn’t a heart. It has no pulse. It isn’t a clock or a wrist. Scrutiny can coax no secret from it. There is no hearse with one flat tire In endless circuit, […]
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Minima St.
A Cultural Society digital chapbook. Click here to view Minima St.
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Surfaces “and their resonance”
“a naked spectacle laid bare” Joseph Guglielmi Rough colors — nauseating rhythms. These sounds and visions. A passage in blue light toward a wall. Something unbearable. Something fixed and bursting — like shrapnel — or water sprayed over skin. Remainders of the sun in cords — against coterminous surfaces. I wait out boredom as I […]