Poems

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  • Three Poems

    Resingeing his right palm each take,
  • Poetry

    In my new room upstairs,
  • FOUNTAIN

    Dogwood white knuckle it through January, February, March:
  • Grand Marais Estuary, in Fog (after the painting by Stanley Krohmer)

    Color of ice, or heaps of snow, gray-blue, slate.
  • Acne

    And I’d see it that way, the word, all
  • GOD HOUR (ERIC LUNDQUIST: IN MEMORIAM)

    No mind, no form, I only exist;
  • While

    While we were kissing that year, the icebergs were sleeping,
  • The Loneliness of His Death

    I like to think there’s a place where all the poets go
  • The Interview

    Where is your wheel? Your bike-body? Sturdy-car-self?
  • False Elegy

    I sometimes feel as if my mother has died and I’m free to reminisce her final months.
  • Potato | The Surface

    I do not want to finish my potato,
  • Home

    Those last days in Hollywood—