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Poems

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  • THE STREET

    Streaked and fretted with effort, the thick vine

  • Paean for the Players

    The pale actor’s mouth

  • Two Poems

    The clarity of familiar faces

  • Mid-March

    If, when I sit here in my study

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

    I still love the sound of breaking,

  • Genesis and The Anonymous City

    God made the world with his mouth.

  • The Bahá’í School

    It stood at the top of a steep hill that sloped all the way down to the Pisquataqua River, which even then I knew was tidal.

  • What If a House Could Draw its Own Blueprints? and The Decision

    The house grows wild, floats

  • Revolver

    His face was a festival.  Inside it,

  • Honor Guard

    Who does this body

  • Pandemic Fugue

    These are the skies of my childhood

  • Indian River at Dusk

    The first and only time I caught a sheephead