Category / Current

Building the Boat, Trèboul (1…

after the painting by Christopher Wood   Half-way, the basket nature of the ship reveals itself, to us though not perhaps to the two men or the women bringing material or sitting in gossip on the quay, for, though real

Two Poems

My Fjord   I will sail through my own fjord and I will name the fjord My Fjord. I know it’s incorrect to say that the Vikings wore horned helmets, but I will wear a horned helmet, for my job

Two Poems

  Doing Sudoku on September 11, 2016                                                 (Muriel’s 18th Birthday)     Confusion hadn’t yet released its poisons when I pushed like a champ. Now, in Ohio, battleground state, you canvas and prepare to vote. Increase the numbers! I

Let the Dead Bury the Dead

Surely she would want to hear one final song, something from the Carpathians, something folkloric about flying geese or curly hair, just to calm her nerves before he laid her to rest.  Or she might ask for a glass of


There are firm ones.  Soft, almost boneless ones.  Hardy/hearty ones.  Two-handed ones, cocooning.  Congratulatory ones (well done!).  Business ones, the deal settled.  Kinship ones.  Secret, coded ones for fraternities and special groups.  Ones for greeting and for farewell.  Ones for

Lava Lakes and Petrified Fores…

I watched a roomful of faces exert effort to remain unrevealed all of those efforts took a toll stoney and cold and somewhat in pain the proceedings were scripted to induce just this sort of bland conjunction,  conditions unremarkable were

Two Poems

Good Stuff   ‘There’s some good stuff on Youtube,’ someone writes. The kettle’s heating; while I’m waiting, I find the one he means.  My lighter lights At last. The thousands who have chosen To watch the clip have given it

Moss City

City down to the last nuance is moss, straightleaved, twisten, fossilized in travertine, some that lives on rotting wood or the sunniest crest in Central Park, other whose resilience but for a cup of water is stifled. Mosses don’t need

A Sampler

from THE SOLITUDE OF FORMS By Ana Gorría        There is always a fold within a fold. Gilles Deleuze     Your Proximity as Utopia As you hold your breath, like a watchman waiting for sunrise. Let’s replace

Two Poems

Redeye that never sets, contrail bloody with eclipse we rock under: white bathrobe and nudity, damp seat, damn oarlock, fish ruching the black, the air filled with space, with cold, a plane so far above its rumble is weather crossing

Two Poems

ORACLES “Think as a mortal.” “Benefit yourself.” “Grieve for nobody.”   Gone, even the singing fountain, here between the goat carcass and the olive stump. We brought our questions here where there is no one, of course, to answer them.

End of the Century

End of the Century                       We’ve slept too long, and that hasn’t stopped the incidental warping— constellations crossing, new diamond-scratch on glass. Radio jumps off the bedstand.  No one can hear or see, as the Ramones hammer in the background

Two Poems

Instruction on Driving with an Orgasm   after Ignatow’s “The Driver” Look both ways before going out for a spin. And ease onto the road. Take careful note of the speed limit and oncoming traffic. Focus. In other words, don’t


Why is the sky so tall and over everything?   What you draw as a blue stripe high above a green stripe, white-interrupted, the real sky starts at the tip of each blade of grass and goes up, up, as


The time is naturally over. It is another morning. Lie Still, but declare the carpet of marigolds at your tongue, yours. Raise Your lips to the flock of sunlight at your door and tell yourself to Man Up.  There is