Thursday, March 26, 2015

A Form of Therapy

A cousin of Byron, rumored
mad, would race roaches
over his body, tapping them
with a straw to spur them.

Why?

Having vile vermin run
over him mirrored his
mind, or viewed through
a skewed lens of Christianity

he saw himself devoid
of grace and craved feeling
his sins. At least this way
he could control them.


Thursday, February 19, 2015

My Father's Work

Life is a lapping of stones
into homes. Each day a stone
wall. Each moment housing
a stone among stones.


Thursday, January 29, 2015

Warm Frequent Guest

(Hey, if it's a good enough subject for Auden.)

Your declaration before entering
keeps children giggling and makes
company in elevators uncomfortable.
But my posture to present you
often invites the muse, thankfully
she's rarely embarrassed. Oddly
your entrance is also an exuent,
duplicated actually, the second
one swirling. And after each
meeting, I always leave feeling
lighter for having met you.


Friday, January 9, 2015

On the Ubiquitous Use of Superlatives

How loud must we shout
before realizing our ambient
dissonance is that, vociferous
unintelligible shrouds of sound
cloaking us in invisibility.


Saturday, January 3, 2015

Salomé

With bed-head hair,
She's barefooted
And smirking,
Having just requested
The Baptist's beheading.

Salomé by Henri Regnault




Friday, December 19, 2014

Greener Grass (This Is Nonsense)

While at work,
I see myself at Poets House
with Lowell and a notebook,
but upon this thought's embodiment,
I better find contentment
envisioning myself with pizza and drink
at a pie shop down the street.
Though I know once there,
I'll wish to better fare
at home with coffee
and a Netflix movie.
So I'll stop by Barnes and Noble
to buy that book of Lowell's,
hoping that I'll read
instead of watching TV.


Wednesday, December 17, 2014

Some lines

Buses in speedy procession take
turns flattening pedestrians