Poetry

Appraisal Theory
April 02, 2013

My son’s in his Watch This years. “Watch this!” He throwsopen the screen door, races through the kitchen, returns in a pant. “See that?” Although I’m watching,I don’t.

White Ashes
April 01, 2013

My dentist tells me about his dying white ash trees growing near the power lines.The blight that pulls apart            the roots, telling us we aren’t getting any younger.The tooth, he says, has its own widening rings;            each line not age b

Rude Mechanicals
March 21, 2013

                            Against a white wall someone’s hair was a treetop, the body,the trunk of a tree.

Ferry
March 19, 2013

Hell, it feels like nothingis carrying you across like you’re packed in bulrush  following the river forward or a motor with its little propeller   propped out of the water in back of the boat  staring up at easy beauty and thinking of those lines  t

Henry Hudson
March 18, 2013

We play a hundred feet beneath his feet: I kick the ball,she chases it. She’ll paw and nose it somebefore she brings it back, though at times she won’t.Then I fetch.

Eras of Yves Klein
March 14, 2013

The Era of Having Famous Painter ParentsThe Era of Bypassing the Problematics of ArtThe Era of Learning to Write with Left HandThe Era of the Irish JournalThe Era of Doing Rosicrucian Exercises Every Night After Supper and Mailing Them         to Cal

Becoming T. S. Eliot, for Better and for Worse
Eliot's Letters from 1926-1927
March 04, 2013

Now that we know so much about Eliot, are we still so curious about him?

Locust Vision
February 28, 2013

Where the branches of the honey locust thronged through daylight hours                   with wings and voices of bluejays finches cardinals chickadees and  white-throated sparrows making their spring-loaded hunger-sweetened                   pres

Welder's Smoke
February 27, 2013

When the light-stunned doewent stupid, I couldn’t fire,a furtive scruple that meant nothingto the blue light that whooped onbehind us, us with two pistolssliding across the seat. Bobbyslapped the lights o! and gunned it,slamming into the dark.

Poem with the Window Left Open
February 25, 2013

All you have to do is open the windowto let the night in: then mothseffervesce in a streamtowards the lamp, then the cool airthat blows between the blackbird andthe bat, air that blues the whole worldlets itself in, the whole worldstared at so intent

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