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Poems

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  • This Could Happen

    If you kept walking you would eventually step out of yourself.

  • A Brief Portfolio

    Theatre people who know suppose them to bring good luck.

  • Taking It Back

    Two weeks past Epiphany,

  • The Merchants of Venice

    The man speaks some Italian, the woman

  • Childhood

    A bead of moisture swelling from black metal,

  • A Brief History

    When I close my eyes I can still hear

  • A Brief Portfolio

    There is no consensus when Dadaism ended & when Surrealism didn’t.

  • Three Ballerinas & Blue Plaques

    After the war, my father bought three little porcelain figurines in Germany, three

  • Three Poems

    Typos   Word instead of wood but, sodden, it smoked when it burned. I wrote god for good who was, once–– in my childhood years, crowned with the nimbus of that capital G–– but now tends to be a placeholder for nightmare, tears. Seeking solace in the pastoral, but grove came out as grave and the lymph nodes, irradiated, naked

  • Soldier’s Wife in the Aftermath

    After the great war I stepped inside

  • Morning Hunger

    Why not in the icy clarity of morning,

  • A Gaze Hound That Hunteth by the Eye

    It’s not criminal: it isn’t sodomy