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Free Magic Lessons

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" No honest poet can ever feel quite sure of the permanent value of what he has written: he may have wasted his time and messed up his life for nothing."--T.S. EliotI think, okay now I know, the poem's starting to wear off. But I'm alive, at least…

Things an Old Person Would Say

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Obituaries aren’t as much fun as they used to be.

SUNRISE

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There is a false dawn, when night still holds sway, but tempered with promise; anticipation.

High Fives

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They pull up to the curbside and he jumps out to shake the hands in that familiar men’s grasp/shake they do when saluting each other. If that isn’t his daughter it should be, the one sitting in his car, with her door wide open.

Upon a Time

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then all crawl out from the wreckage to begin a dance lasts all night so by morning we'll be tired surprised we're still upright

Five Million Yen: Chapter 71

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It was that awkward time when one didn’t know if the night’s lover wanted to see you again.

Follow My Lead

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I ran down the list of reasons she might be calling. She could be bankrupt, having a mid-life crisis, or maybe had a terminal illness. Either way I was clueless, as I had absolutely no emotional bond with the woman I came out of.

postscript

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the sand is hot to walk upon so you must run if caught there w/out footwear. it is like a painter has colored the sea and made parts of it dark blue yet other areas green. little birds jump around the fine grain world and that is when you wonder where they came…

Weld (St. Petersburg Blues)

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There's one graveyard for the part-timers and another for the full-timers. Ours is a little nicer, but we're still all going to hell. Do you remember St. Petersburg? No, you're memory's not that good.

How to Lose Control of Your Pencil

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Real hands

Women of God

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I keep the book when the lessons are done, go through the pages Momma skipped over...

The Train Rolls On

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From my office window, I watch the trains roll in and out of the city. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of passengers staring out windows as the train slows, the ones who have another destination. I've been on those trains before, ones that took me far away from all that…

Scanner

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The Bearcat 101 was a police scanner popular with a certain type during in the 1970s. Daddy was that exact type. I found the Bearcat in his apartment after he passed. His illness was a common one, the process gradual, implacable. No red and blue…

The Poet's Mark

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Often I want to kiss their lips Drink in every word they have written

Seriously?

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Did you really think you were going to cure cancer with that poem?

gravelortian part 25

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I come up and out of the hole onto a village street in the middle of a parade celebrating the arachnid god.

Condos Dumping Lawyers for Paramilitary Death Squads

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“Honorable condominium association members,” the leader begins. “I apologize for not having a PowerPoint slide show tonight, but me and my muchachos travel light.”

Oed is Dead

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I COULD always sleep. Go "home" now and sleep. My body and my fetus—who complain of this torture—would appreciate sleep. I have something to do that is not sleep. I have something to do that is not sleep. I have to try to wake.

Panic Pure

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He said, “It was only after I broke my neck and even like maybe a year later that I really started realizing that I had something to say.”

Misanthropy in an Age of Propaganda

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We have become// the sum of our appetites,/ the growth curve of our dominion.

War Story : Alternate Duty

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They say that air traffic control is stressful work and I guess it is for some people. It did require a lot of concentration but that never bothered me much. I could keep the position, bearing and altitude of a couple of dozen aircraft in my head without

Down The River

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The river was frigid. Branches, empty cans, and used condoms float past me.I lost my jacket when I became snagged on a tree branch. My shoes are gone. My skin is blue-grey, as are my lips and fingernails. I've been face-down in this river for two…

The Walk of Shame

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There it was One abandoned high heel shoe on the sidewalk Could have been Some kind of robbery Though Maybe it was just The beginning of the Walk of shame

To the Folksinger Just Arrived

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Whisper salutations to your irises

Improvisation on a few lines by Mark Strand

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I am tripping on poetry. Purple ink drips from my eyes like ergot of rye.

Island Numbers

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an island hidden in the sound holds treasure

Snowdrop White

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We light cigarettes, take turns putting them out on each other's arms, legs, anywhere hard without a mark. It's living, he says, it's better to know you're alive than feel nothing at all. My brother is two years older than you, I was thinking on Tuesday,…

Karma Wash, Hog Wash, and Swill

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The beer on the shore is Lapping at the foam of memory And I can’t sit still Until I take my pill Karma Wash, Hog Wash and Swill I went to the top of the heap At the bottom of the Hill I saw a bum’s sign that read: “Will eat dog food for

The Thing on Marlow Street

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After all, if she could get through World War II with no more than a couple of letters and numbers on her arm, she could, sure as hell, get through this.

The Lonely White Elephant in Rome

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the gambling priest stands in the morning fog/red moon hangs in the sky/the army of seven houses marches over the hill