Inhabiting groves of grapefruits, lime, mango, lemon, …
Poetry
What graceful primates
What graceful primates swinging through branches uninvited, Sun-risen on frosted eyes uncovered, a thousand luminescent-rayed sapphires scattered into timbers above, into near-innocent epithets of errant farm boys scribbled. …
Spoon
Hellbent man shaped, by scraping And pounding, an amalgam of silver and lead. The bowl of the spoon shaped enough To hold a measured quantity of jam or Flax or chia seeds. Unburied from the hopes of what might Have been a wedding gift, a passing Fancy, a dowry, The edges delicately …
Hells Kitchen
We whisper along the rails, from Rhinecliff to Pennsylvania Station. Small ponds caught along the wayside are nearly frozen over, rushes still a source of gold. The stops are all poems in name: Croton, whose hills Pythagoras roamed, but here conceal a landfill. Poughkeepsie, stone cuts …
Old Houses
In each new home, I stood for some time in the basement, tracing the copper pipes, the old cast iron waste, the wires electric, even the old ceramic spindles. I followed each joist to its seat, and sought out the origin of dust, perhaps from powder post beetles or termites. I sought out hollow …
Brachiopods
Reading Herodotus, or driving through the Catskill range past the oxidized effluvium of long-eroded mountains; Past layers of catskills delta, where subsequent glaciers scraped at the Helderburgh sea, where the orogeny of the acadian mountains gave way to the Brachiopods of Mount …
1/2
Our house was the first, floating free of its footing, moving away from the path leading through the pasture where we would pass the fly-swarmed dead horse, fascinated. I think I was fond of someone next door, but I don't remember. Was it here that I first met my father, home from …
1/1
That quiet lot across the road, where comfort arms crossed, and woolen-sweater-sheathed the leapers, criers, the many children are absent. The wind gathers the leaves and bits of paper re-mixes their movement and positing folding and in-folding. Galvanized chain link fences, rusted along …
Bowling Alley
Do you ever have those dreams where you’re somewhere, a bus station perhaps, and turning the corner you’re in a bowling alley? Someone nailed my feet. To the floor. and my heart to I don’t know where, just that there was a story being told, a story that from an art-of-fiction …
Fire Island
The freckles on your back are the stars of the milkyway, My hand, the spaceship, slides down the ridge of vertebrae, through the small, across Orion's belt to the doubleness of your tush, tukas, ass, butt, derierre. In these outer reaches of the galaxy I lose my way - become …