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Poems

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  • The Last Photograph

    a golden shovel on the opening line of Gwendolyn Brooks’ “To Prisoners”

  • The Last Phonebooth

    The last phone booth on the planet smells

  • The Last Orgasm

    Sometimes I think of the innocent live

  • The Last of Fanfare

    By fire, then, but within view of a rough sea?

  • The Last Harvest

    Of course the snake is still here

  • The Last Few Feet

    And so the thyme fell and spilled a neat pile

  • The Labors of Psyche

    Because I could not not-know any longer I held the lamp over him

  • the kitchen song

    so strong a wind

  • The Killing

    While Abraham binds his son’s hands,

  • The Just Measure and Eels

    I stay here on the balcony after the rain, peering at the sky of a rocky landscape,

  • The Jeweled Eye

    A ruby eye on the clasp of the gold

  • The Irretrievable

    Second shelf on the right. You’ll