-
It
It
isn’t
weird,
the lack
of haunting
since your inner
was
extinguished
by
a deluge of outer,
storm
of
normal.
The lady
at the pharmacy
was really bright
like
in
a shellacked
dream of community,
looking
listeningly, and
saying antiquated
things
you
never
realized.
I woke up
in
this
unrecognizable
form
again,
to say this.
-
Parable of the Sown
Riding the 3
over the void
and up the hill,
germinating
with the seedy
underemployed.
-
The Poet
She had such thoughts
no music could
encompass, so
she let them go
to whitherhood
on windy aughts.
-
Echt Gnarl
Nobody cares
that you are here,
says the city
where your last root
gasped, phew! in a
slow decision.
-
Soothe for Ache
Three teenage boys
underdressed in
pearly spring March
gash a window
thunderingly,
eager to run.
-
Hymn to the Blood
I accept the one father
who giveth and giveth more
as my own, and the mountain
awaits my return.
-
The Cost
Who’ll bring the darknessthat we like so much on earth
to measure
and rue, in our sleepwaking through the daily news
as we unfurl theragenic sighs?
-
Where I’ve Never
Where I’ve never
been
is
calling
from before
like an animal
in the night
off
the trail
in a language
I finally understand.
There is a cottage
in a copse
near the village
where you belong
too.
The television
was sometimes
right,
like
my father,
the winged leaf
off the puritan
maple,
capable
as falling.
-
The Gallivanting Sort
Mind the rapture
you cannot feel
sagaciously
and walk alone
to the surreal
imprimatur.
-
Warming to Apogee
My history
of affection
for the tired face
of a morning
isn’t written
entirely.
poems
from the good city
poems 