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(Withheld) 1970

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The Moon The hatch of the lunar module hissed as it opened, a few puffs of leftover water vapor escaped toward them in a sparkling white cloud that rapidly dissolved…

PRELUDES AND INTERLUDES

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Her friend had been drunk, and sometimes after two or three quarts of beer, he'd tell people that he was Jewish.

New Routine

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It was time to leave.

Initial doubts

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"Well, you certainly can't be marrying him then .. "

Apprehensions in the Garden of Gethsemane

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The thumb, incarnate, knows/ the moment of the misplaced hammer blow;/ the tongue, incarnate, the cool invigoration/ of water drawn from the dark well.

I/ Robot

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in case something went wrong

Out of Vegas

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Whatever it is, the night vibe feeds off that disadvantage, nibbles at the desperation of those who come here.

My First Horror Show

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I remember screaming and wanting to run from the living room that time you came home drunk.

Allergic Reaction

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On his way to his first fishing expedition in the Bay Area, the man remembered the rustle and shimmer of the willows by the muddied Jemez River in New Mexico, cold beer, the clean camaraderie of childhood friends. He walked along a path choked with greenery to the San Pablo…

Left On The Scrap Heap

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Daylight and cold sensed as an abstract, a number in my mind. Air thin, polluted, lacking oxygen. But the Recyclers are at it again.

Dear Mei

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I planned and planned. I followed the veterinarians around and I took vials of panda tranquilizers when they were not looking, and it was often that they forgot to look. The earth kept shaking, they were hungry, and many did not know what had become of th

Pura Vida

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The girl lifts my head, and I sit up straight once again. She hands me a pair of old work gloves, helps put them on my swollen hands. She wipes my face with a wet, warm towel. Her thin arms tremble. She cries. I cry.

Filaments

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It's always dark when Cal and I arrive. We park under the bright sodium lamps, closest to the doors. The lights will probably be off by the time we return, unless the sensors miscue in the uncertain light of early morning. When that happens, the lights…

PROMISES

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There was a bird on the windowsill, a sparrow, its silhouette backlit by a view of Uptown. She remembered many sparrows during her forced trips to Mercy Hospital...That was all over now...

Full of Mad Hope

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full of mad hope / we dash into the street / leap into the fray / and enter splendiferous lists

Seasons of You

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Summer, Spring, Winter, Fall, the Good Lord made them all.

Kinky Eggs

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She plucks two eggs from the carton, weighs and measures them with the cup of her palm, the curve of her fingers.

four haiku

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years later ghosts enter. . . .

The Incident

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There are some I don’t recognize. My gaze lingers for a second. It’s bad business this.

Unlimited And Limited

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Despite kryptonite not actually existing it became possible to buy, for 300 dollars, pieces of kryptonite on eBay. Personal protection, the sales pitch said. The pieces of kryptonite looked suspiciously like green plastic.

YMCA

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absolute bullshit

Old Photograph Stuck Between Documents

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I spent the evening looking at our old pictures. / We were never happy. I realize that now.

A New Thing

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I am trying very hard to rhyme, and trying very hard not to.

Year End Closeout: Buy One, Get Seven Free.

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It’s not that cold but the cold that is/ penetrates layered cloth and soft skin/ to chill the blood in its capillaries

Us Kids in Left Field

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Us kids in left field steal out bedroom windows after dark to pinch hit Lucky Strikes between first and second fingers, arc the glow of shop-lifted hot-boxed cigarettes over the chain link homerun fence sprawl on perfectly ridiculous grass passing a bottle…

Precipice of Questions

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He stood with the bride of quietness / on the precipice of questions

Now Lay in It

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The phone rang again at midnight. Maury sat straight up in bed, a reflex from his days in the barracks. Linda, his wife, was already sitting up. In the hint of moonlight, she dabbed her nose with a wadded tissue and made helpless little noises. Maury…

Redneck Haiku

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some local color Haiku

Wheatfield with Cypresses. van Gogh

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There's no sky like that with twisting clouds shot up into by cypress trees that are so like dark green flames leaping out of the earth as if a dark green oily pool were on fire underground, and this was all that could escape, was its essence.

Kafka, Smashed

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perhaps I am only being transported not for replacement but for repair