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Poems

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  • Standing by a Coppice Gate, Reading “The Darkling Thrush”

    The city gate loomed at century’s end,

  • The Gone and the Going Away

    The world I know keeps going farther

  • In Purgatory

    Not easy.

  • Embryo

    All morning, pitting the apricots

  • Two poems from “The Mistaken Place of Things”

    How to say hair

  • Night World | The Gentle Soul

    The barbed-wire vines

  • Berlin

    We see the public statues

  • Why I Haven’t “Outgrown Surrealism,” No Matter What That Moron Reviewer Wrote

    I still love the sound of breaking,

  • Archaic Rayon Kamehameha

    Blue eyes like dusty Santa Rosa plums,

  • when it is time

    you pass that bridge

  • A Brief Portfolio

    He’s nowhere now.

  • In the Vestibule

    The in-between is queasy