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Poems

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  • WINDOWS (after Baudelaire)

    You never see as much in an open window as you will looking at it when it’s closed. 

  • Notes on an Illness in Spain & the grist of gratitude is like ingratitude

    The sinuous ripple of a well-broken in fan, a soft hand

  • Poetry

    In my new room upstairs,

  • Nude with Pebbles

    Flowers fall.  And I noticed

  • All the Shrimp I Can Eat

    They are swimming away from me at the speed of light

  • Uncle

    Here is the man who tells you

  • Letter From The Capital

    She writes: now we have wars between historical eras. We fight in time as well as space. 1914 vs. 1939 is a devastating