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Auden at Swarthmore

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So I went to see the wrinkled and rumpled poet, who insisted on reading from memory, stumbling through his sheaf of poems.

The Work of Constant Rising

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When did the air become warning?That clairvoyant delft and Delphic sky.What strange and ardent premonitionheld sway? Where were we goingbefore this hard work of constant falling?We were catching cabs and making breakfast,ironing, cursing late trains; hoping the deal…

Dead Poets

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The night was filled with voices and signals. Roads not taken reappeared. Driving past the anniversary of my death I passed a chipmunk

Dove Call

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soloing on a high wire

maybe, in winter

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I will wrap up in quilts that still smell of summer sun

Feathers

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These little things, they are the hope We are hoping for, they are everywhere. I made this one just for you. Call them feathers. Call them roses. You'll See them if you need them. These Little things carry the good news that …

A Rejected Bone

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I offered you a piece of prose. You tell me it's just a bone. You say you're not impressed, you want nerves, muscles, flesh and ... It's solid, I retort, slick, shapely, ivoried. True, it's chipped, cracked and gnawed. Why is it so? you ask. …

Without You

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Of Life

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beware the slice of the knife cutting like a curious comet blasting through solar systems down the throat of the bad ass milky way

Version - 2.0

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Pale like a tracing of a memory

Three Short Poems

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no more trying to keep / the peace, no more trying / to keep every person happy. / Just this: no more.

May the Glad Inherit

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All creatures know death at their very core, a tacit default--

Bodies Approaching Rest

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He hates this body no less now/ than he did at 14 for its pudginess/ and the hair that can’t conform

The Well

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It was by the well on one cold early spring morning

Honoring Heritage

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salmon sits gentler on my palate

Larger Than Life

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She told me one way to deal with it would be to put everything in a box and burn it.

Story by Committee

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The past has no flavor.

haiku not much carved

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pens loaded with ink/exceeding or equal to/my volume of blood.

Tilt

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My Own Gun

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“What's a slut?”

Blurred Waters

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He was a boy then, barely ten, when he sat on the edge of the pond, watched the ducks swim, made intermittent ricochets. He didn't exactly know what had come over him that day. Whether it had been premeditated and meant to hurt. Or just an impulse of the moment,…

Daily Living

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When we are given eternity, as a night is eternal

Make Not Thy Head a Grave

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the emergence of the Beatles and the Vietnam War sad human electricity no buzz of any wheel

If Only it Were So

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In the moment I crinkle the aluminum foil, The sandwich now a deeper Part of me

But It Is Difficult

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The day doesn’t budge in its enormity.

Die for the sunset

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we get back to discussing how long a year is although no one talks about what a woman is or a man and they are just there. rocking chairs rock. sitting and spinning, just like spider’s spin waiting for him – to make a coffee.

Birds and Beasts

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The world has gone crazy, but please let me make you One of my songs. You can eat it, if you want. It tastes better when it's fresh, but you can also take It with you on long journeys. The world has gone crazy, But not everyone has…

The Last Beach Heather

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She moved to a garret on the back side of Beacon Hill where the sun seemed never to shine, while he moved to the sunny side of the street in the Back Bay.

Meditation after a Sengai Painting

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Here we have the three primal elements ....

the pit

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this is not a monster; not something to be hidden in the dark for an eternityor something you put in your mouth to choke on or swallow - this cannot beconsumed.