This is the long haul, the fullness of the full moon, the unknown arc of the rest of a life. This is the flesh wounds, the slings and arrows, the dirge of dashed hopes. This is the moon pushing through the haze, long into its becoming, framed in your window finding you. It has been a long time since we were lovers, a long time...
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The darkness has set, firm and obdurate in the window. The blind dog snuffles around the room. My mother drags herself in her transport chair down the hallway, bumping and scooting her way into the bathroom. All the lights are off in the room where I sit, squandering my time on heavy thoughts and fantasy. The hour early, and it’s already too late. I am...
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It is as it is, this early autumn afternoon. This late day beset with blue skies, dead leaves, and fickle wind. The east is still bright as ever though the sun spills and levels, lighting the neighbor’s driveway and garage, pushing the tree shadows into traffic as they climb and rise. I smoke a cheap cigar, sitting uncomfortably in the place I settled. Sitting as...
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It is a simple spell—
fire to smoke, smoke to breath
breath to blood, blood to flesh—
so the flame is kept
so the branch is burning.
It is a common thread—
the wrong word is used or
the word is used wrong
it goes on and on so long
the word becomes right.
Comes a time the star is
your compass, your direction
the...
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When the moon at last relents,
pushing through the pines to see
me barefoot in the dark yard
it always takes your side.
I step upon the sharp rocks
my bad blood and misshapen gait
make me dance a little dance as
I ask after you, head aimed high
like pressing heaven to confess
its many crimes. The moon aloof
refuses to give you up,...
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The sun goes down and the moon comes out and the crows all head for home. The streetlights flicker and spill as the smoke curls past the spidered eaves and the browning leaves, fall already and the only difference witnessed is in the alone. I spit and fume, shedding plumes and panache. The shadows grow unsettled and steadily advance as I sit and smoke on...
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A few rings and there is
no more up, two by fours and
two by sixes, the cobwebbed rails
the garage door runs on and
smooth concrete below. The climb
comes honestly, the heart run
its rabbity circles out,
the head little more than decorum.
Chase and chase the race is ruined,
the by and by gone bye-bye,
the baby with the bath. Daylight
through...
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Reading the last book
the poet’s work collected late
the garden’s harvest
green and gold long after
the gardener goes to dirt,
the careful, loving labor from
friends and family tending the wishes for
words and papers left behind,
seeing only growing things
seeds and leaves and love
that living well allots.
Art is only the shared ache of
seeing something you need to show,...
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And now to the sad child, the sleepless child, the keening fool who sought your answer. The wretched day come down too quick, the plain hands keeping their own counsel. The slow ruminations of the coated tongue when at last the words have failed. The fast to forgiving, the forgotten discourse, strangers all filling your head. In this unholy moment through filtered daylight, the residue...
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It is a small sound, like a tiny engine running hot. It is a tender taste, like a shy kiss. Up all hours, listing your secrets. Shifting from thought to feckless thought. The fan blows, her voice just around the corner. Your hip aches, her hand once pressed there. Reading lamp haloed in aluminum and dust blurs and blinds depending on where you look. It’s...
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The moth in the moonlight
loses to the mirror of
water clasped in the laden
vessel, the sky held
as if in cupped hands,
drowning as its wings stir and
spill the stars the stars it was offered by
the ghost cast upon the innocent skin
carrying that heavy shine.
The face sags, wearying the mirror,
the spotted constellations dusting
the glass mingling with the...
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One night the skies clear a little, the breathing gets a bit easier, and the stars flicker in the slippery atmosphere. There’s not much to it, just a rolling of the dice and clipped fluidics, but it feels like a respite all the same. The troubles are loosed and they aren’t through acting up. The bad has just begun, but it’s good to take a...
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