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Poems

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  • To a Man in Rags Holding Out a Cup | A 100-year-old Man Asks Me to Write about Something

    I don’t have much

  • Two Poems

    One summer night I lay down under a yew tree.

  • GET ON YOUR PONY AND RIDE | BIG WHEEL

    You are under the impression that my poems

  • Things forgotten

    once in another city,

  • Letter to My Almost Former House

    It’s true, I’m getting ready to leave you.

  • I hitchhiked through Harrisburg once: night and some light dislocating, | A self beyond herself singed by the stars, fundamentally | Not the violent deaths that follow you around [if you were black] but the slow

    I hitchhiked through Harrisburg once: night and some light dislocating,

  • One for André Breton

    Always for the first time

  • PRESENTIMENTS

    Such as the sun might present—out of sight—

  • Elegy for My Grandmother in the Form of a Cactus

    The way each linked lobe of your cactus swallows all

  • So What

    My mind’s a ringing phone

  • Post Mortem

    You might not see the bodies in the famous photo

  • Tool & Die

    In the final unburdening, massive crates are moved