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Political Science

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We know the big one is out there.

Balancing Act

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your tanned hand with a half moon scar warm against / the curve of my waist

You Don't Have to Read This

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I get it. Poetry is an effort. Language is an effort. Words are an effort. Reading words is an effort. A big effort. It takes energy. Attention. Focus. Who has that? Nobody. So truly. I mean it. You don't have to read this. If you're already reading this you can…

You Were This Close

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I don't know if we'll meet again in the sea of light. Circumstances aren't only up to human beings. After all maybe it's all drunk circumstance, but that doesn't answer the blinding question, it only poses some more. This is…


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I first met death in an alley.

An Indirection

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The bones are chilled now, past/ invigorations of the coming spring// and its entanglements

Visiting You Without Her

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I bear the wrong gin. Your air conditioner runs cold. It is either frigid or off, the gauge broken. You are not too old to overlook these things. You can't be choosy, but you will never beg. Just an occasional choice as you settle into this…


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I loved to visit my grandparents when I was a kid.

3 Poems

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We have always been a trashy species./ We study ourselves by examining/ garbage-- a pile of mussel shells here,

The comforting insignificance of numerical comparison

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Damned if you know who. Damned if you know what. Damned if you know why.

The Thirteenth Sign

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I'm twelve again and

Feets You Fail Me

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San Bruno avenue, six shops in eight blocks. Those Vietnamese ladies thrive on the pedicure trade.

Who Will Wed This Woman?

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Once upon a time it was the custom to save a man condemned to death from execution if a woman in the crowd of spectators volunteered to marry him. It must have been a custom devised by women, for they were the ones who later on had to listen to the snores of these…

The Evening News

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When I got home from work I parked my briefcase in the hall, acknowledged our dog and immediately went into the kitchen where wife, Sherry, was cooking supper. Without turning around at the sink, she said her usual, How was your day? I said, Fine, and yours? She turned…

Letter for K.

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the kind of thing that begins with a fist


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It shouldn’t take that long to count/ to six but when the six are cats, arithmetic/ assumes Heisenbergian properties/ as the objects counted defy the count.


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walk into a cave

Of Tongue and Cheek

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Our beautiful currencies and stamps/ disappear into the digital vortex/ of accelerated appetites.

Never Talking to You Again

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everything becomes an excuse


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about killing

The balloon of you

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and the mass exceeds the buoyancy/ and gravity pulls you back,

Legs and Mirrors

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I don’t want to be touched when I’m upset.

Notes for a Life. In a Swing. No Wind to Speak of.

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Somewhere a banjo, somewhere a hound.


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“Easter’s coming,” my wife says. “Should I dress as a bunny or a chicken?” she asks. She means for the costume party.

Three Letter Word for Grief

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He wants me to squawk words at him in the middle of the night.

She spread her legs and flew away

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His unconscious sister on the floor, an emaciated mutt giving him the eye, and discreet piles of shit everywhere. Time to save the dog.

Nice Dream

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They must love me.

The Thing About Dooley

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Dressed only in a Speedo and sneakers, he asked about my day.

A Nun Walks Into A Library...

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Library life is full of surprises.

The Model

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My art teacher hated Salvador Dali.