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Poems

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  • DHIMITRI

    He was a tall man on the edge of the couch

  • Revolver

    His face was a festival.  Inside it,

  • For a Theophoric Figure

    Strange how first things dawn on us

  • Lily of the Forest

    On the slopes of Mt. Ślęża, the cult

  • Ferns  | Cycle

    Wind thrums

  • I’LL CALL YOU THIS AFTERNOON,

    I’ll call you nowhere, now

  • The Barn

    No one just Mary

  • Two Views of Bercy

    It seems that the sun has stopped and will move no more

  • YOUR PROBABILITY AMPLITUDE | A fragment from The Llatease of Homey, from a recently discovered Mycenaean text.

    I glance and

  • On the Banks of the Allegheny

    We had started over again—

  • Houses

    Under the cold light of the chintzy white crown chandelier, I’d lean one upright card again

  • Ode to Roadside Shrines

    I first see you in Crete, little boxes on four skinny legs,