POETRY

“Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful.”
—Rita Dove
Dis Place Ment

People have always coped with flooding, and they learned to cope with death.

Sprung (April)

I like to think I’m also sprung,
released from the furnace knocks,
done with the heavy meat stews
and salty soups.

Like dirt

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

Clueless & Briefly Gorgeous

I buy too much, for someone of my stature.
could pawn a skinny metaphor to purchase a plump skin.
its reputed in our lineage— to daydream a life that shreds our pockets.

I Garden at the Edge of Autumn

There is so little left of the tomato plants.

Soft Porn and Cuban Pine

It recommended
soft porn, as gentle prodding and petting parent
to parent might calm and soothe the kid.

Clotheslines

Ma wrings
a wet world
of colors

Letter To a Young Poet

Do not say anything anybody else has said ever. Things are not “bleached by sun.”

Time Travel

I count my homes—
those of my scattered youth
the sanctuary of our young family
the intermittent rest stops
of apartments and vacations.

Back Suplex

Gravel-scatted hell &
we were blessed to be able
to hold on for even a heartbeat

Several someones

a folksome, gruesome opera
of gauze and malcontent.

The State School 1984 His Given Name Was Wilbur  We Called Him Magpie

Mostly he ate what was put on his plate
snuck coffee grounds or dirt for a snack
Once a zipper Unzipped

Observer of the Patient

Her brown eyes,
how a fig
considers itself.

Good Driver

Lights on the dashboard spell out
“You still can’t kiss me”

Snow Falls from Branches

Should have found a job by now; should have slept in the night;
should have boiled old coffee before noon.

woman at bar
After She Told Me You Pushed Her Down the Stairs

Empty vessels
make the most sound, I think,
as you rip the fairy lights off the handrail.

Hollywood Hills
the remarkable thing

I am still waiting for the lion