POETRY

“Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful.”
—Rita Dove
Welcome To The House of Static

here is the sky in stop motion, flickering,
a still shot in monochrome

The Man

the man is stayed bent over the canvas
of my sofa. the man is me the man is him
self and I bring down the whip…

An Endeavor of Being Now

We stop doing dishes while
a mile unwinds
from the tree outside.

close up of sun
Mercury in Retrograde

You said it was okay to blame
what goes wrong on the planet

Electric Eels, Finishing School, Teeth

Millions of Americans have been affected by identity theft. It’s probably the greenhouse gases.

Aging Punks

Every so often, they add a tattoo
in honor of some long-forgotten love.

Like dirt

this is what I want you to to see:
leaves falling because it is too late for them not to

Getting Postcards From a Piano Showroom

The two of us toast to a man we both love, to whatever degree, clink our glasses and laugh…

The Kotel in Jerusalem is Filled with Cracks

We found in his suitcase T-shirts, his siddur, gifts he bought for his grandchildren…

3:17 AM as Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks

Part of being a good sad person
is always painting the shadows
in the right direction and knowing
what sorrow to art with.

heavy rain
The Plot

Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time

if detritus is all i’m made up of

my love is a glass shard, a knife made of madness and moonlight,
and there are already way too many fragments in this house

oh Manifesto

The collective
failure
of ethical standards

Dear Deer in the Compost Pile

I tap at the alphabet while a single deer
taps at the dirt beyond the brush
on the far side of the tree line.

Observer of the Patient

Her brown eyes,
how a fig
considers itself.

Lobster

I suffer visions and many indignities
while looking for the Lobster

I could, even now, go down to the water

Even from this distance I could go out
the door it would bang shut and crumble