Most recent stories

I will be a child again

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A child in a new world/ by way of the old I won’t remember.

Lire's Children, After the Swans

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our eyes misted white as goatskin

Zurich, 1989

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I do not yet really understand the power I seem to have at this moment. And I am certainly too young to recognize that it will end up being weakness, too.

Composition for 250 mg. Capsule in Yellow and Black

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What you have just experienced is an entertainment of a new type, one made possible by a convergence of the latest advances in pharmacology and technology.

Made in Japan - 2

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My motivation as a filmmaker for traveling to Japan was economic and opportunistic. American military occupation had accelerated westernization and, when Japan regained its sovereignty in 1952, their economy was rapidly expanding. Led by manufacturing and export of items…

This Was Called War at One Time

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The woman broke the law with that scream. I would say that there was pleasure in it, for her. I would also estimate that ten or fifteen men saw it, ten or fifteen men plus me.

Wounded Knee

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“They picked me up in their spaceship about noon,” Austin Grantham says to me while pulling up an apple crate to use as a stool.

The Eleventh Brother, After the Swan

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I turned a maiden to a witch / and back again

Smart Bar

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Everything is painted black that isn’t glass, velvet, neon, or chrome. The club is cold, and the DJ who broke-up with me while I forgot I was stoned is spinning his favorites to an empty floor. Endings have a rhythm. I heard this one coming. I can hear it

I’m Afraid You May Have Made Some

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awfully evil decisions upstairs in your head that could come back to haunt you in your later years;I'm here to report your zooming about hair isn't really one of them. You have found the infernal wheel works in all four directions at once. Good for you.…

Three

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Revocable Love It was easy lying there with My head on her left breast Listening to the strong Business-like beating of Her heart. She looked down and said Quietly, I told you my love Was revocable. I give it To many men and then I take It back. …

Spring Cleaning for Poets

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“Can you do something about that those four stanzas of three lines each at the bottom of the basement steps?” my wife asked. "That's a villanelle I'm working on."

Men Are Beasts

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Now when she speaks to him, he no longer responds with an interrogative but rather a cheery, "You're absolutely right, dear" or "I'll get right on it," or "What a great idea!"

I will miss you

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I will miss you, sure, let it be known. The memory, and the dream, both. That familiar smell of Old Spice when someone wearing it comes near. And the smell of Coppertone Suntan Lotion on the beaches of our youth in Chicago. And the pressure of your fing

Leda, After the Swan

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I do not jerk up to sirens birds doorbell shouts hello hello through the letterbox hello

Mores

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I like my men like I like my wine: in a box.

the duck discovered alive in a hut

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So this has led again to my hunger over you, the lion of all people, the other I, pertaining to voice, speech, perception. I knew right away how you rose up inside me, how I could fly near your ceiling. Right away could feel the tide, rising and swollen

Three Lullabies (after 'Ooh La La' by the Ditty Bops)

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she knows that's the natural place of a man, above everything, closest to god, eyes slowly filling with rain.

Wife

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What used to be a scene has broken into fragments and blips of her on a screen I can’t control or manipulate.

A toast to politicians

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To politicians who think things will stop, When they finally let slip and drop - this government of ours we call The ultimate power of them all.

that's what sea said

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i thirst always for that poetic mouthful

fake letters in reply

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I did do one nice thing for you

Wintering

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Winter makes me reconsider.

Ambivalence

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She said it feels wrong. Too wet, she said. I snickered, she smacked.

Itch

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Clayton had a grin like the hand of a beast that stretched as long as her gravel road...

Did I Tell You I Have Stripes On My Socks?

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Kids are fascinated by me. Adults look the other way. Maybe it's my size. Or maybe it's the stories in the newspapers.

drinking together

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In fact we were all drinking together in banquet halls (on banquet ships) with an epic poet who invented things, made things up, while dying in thorough dissipation. Washed to shore, our souls with our lives, our shadows. And storms swept them away

The Big Cross

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I hope you and asshole are having a good time.

His Laugh is My Yellow (or explaining skin color to a six-year-old boy)

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Max is the color of burnt caramelized sugar the sweet crust that decorates our bright enameled pots.

I'm So Glad

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The boy had decided he needed to sell his music equipment—the p.a. system, his amp, his compact organ. His band had broken up and wasn’t going to get back together. He was leaving town at the end of the summer, to where exactly he didn’t know yet.