Thursday, April 28, 2011

The Witching Hour


The birds are talking,
Madrugador, but
they quiet as rain
clatters on graveyard
commuter trains that
shuffle under the
tombs of Manhattan.
Why'd you break your soul
off in her belly's
gears? Was it worth it?


With moons for eyes and
mountains for shoulders
you hover over
your breakfast darkness
while loons swoon lovers
under the covers
of the Atlantic.


The cock crow cranked
your croak and spilt
your bowels of
Tarot marrow,
the elements,
though no water,
for she's clever.


What did I say?
Why now do your
boulders grind and
moons gleam? I fear
no soulless nightingale!
Calm your quake or
meet your fate, dark


Silence is the sea
you walk under, and
thunder rolls over
all waking wonders.
Darkness and day
merrily make
another soul
for your breaking.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Sunday, April 24, 2011

Wife Poem

     when I turn to my left
          I see the unfolding
to create my perspective
     a fluttering of cubes out of
          sync but in unison
a patchwork of butterflies
     crying in the night the void
          all in a blink of an eye and then
and then
     and then
          a tree in bloom
a magnolia a stamen
     a pistil
and me

Wednesday, April 20, 2011


If Leslie offered me
The Apple,
I'd bite the Hell out of it.


When macro extreme
of physics mirrors micro, 
what's reality?

Thursday, April 14, 2011

Old Married Men

For Evan Karachalios

At my wedding my
grandfather said
"The wife is a radio,
the husband a signal;
whatever you give her,
she'll amplify back."

My dad said,
"If I listen to your
mom directly after work,
for at least 30 minutes,
there's peace in the home."

Woody said,
"Take her on a date once
a week. You don't have to
spend money, just buy a cola
and hold hands at the mall."

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Morning Commute (Heavenly Train)

A man entered the R train
and forcefully repeated,
"Quiet your voices please,
I'm a real angel,
or I'll move you with
the wind of my wings,"
and fled at the next stop,

where two violinists entered
one end, and two girls the other --
the violinists played E Major Partita by Bach
and the girls laughed nonstop.

Can too many heralds visit me
before my morning coffee?


Dream Record: 13 April 2011

I told William Carlos Williams he couldn't perform at the reading because he was dead. He recommended Randall Jarrell. I didn't have the heart to tell him . . .

WCW portrait stolen from here.

Saturday, April 9, 2011


Hangover-head shaves
a layer between instinct
and civility