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Poems

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  • Armorial and The World is Burning

    At least once or twice a season I take out

  • Nesting & a triptych

    At my parents’ house nothing is in boxes, nothing is packed.

  • Three poems translated from the Polish by Piotr Florczyk

    At night we stood together on guard,

  • The Rehearsal

    At our first duo rehearsal—Bach’s B-

  • Don’t Bum Out the Musicians

    At St. Paul’s church, the musicians have heard it all.

  • Poem in the Old Style

    At the beginning of the play Hecuba was mourning her great losses. She made lists, blamed the Gods: they could

  • Imagined Corners

    At the corner where the transept cuts the nave,

  • Notnames at the Detroit Institute of the Arts and Hell Fuckin’ Yeah:  Smackdown vs. Raw

    At the Detroit Institute of the Arts the Caravaggio’s no

  • More Nights Than Days and Turn It Up

    At the end of my street, they cut the trees.

  • Else

    At the first instance, to amuse others,

  • SOUL-DARK second version | SLEEP second version

    At the forest’s edge: a dark deer. A hush.

  • Soaked, by Marilyn Kallet

    At the friary lunch we chat about End of Days,