• Stult If I

    I continue jaywalking

    across the billion-lane old,

    echt traffic aiming at my


  • Out of the Market, Endlessly

    On the other side

    of wolf, and dreaming a bright

    green pasture,

    I literally

    wait and see what happens next

    to me, and don’t care about the rest.

  • Unreviewable Call


    of an angel

    and my changing

    from an aging

    meander to

    a firm angle

    younger than sin.

  • It’s



    to play

    a dastard

    on the stage

    in pantomime,


    in real

    life, the part

    is the hardest.

    Like the real Devil,

    nobody wants the job.


    I try

    to be

    good, and listen

    to the birds and whatnot,

    and say “please,” “thank you,”

    and “I’m sorry” a lot,

    ignoring the cold


  • Before Mossiness

    Wallace Stevens

    couldn’t see it

    in words too ripe,

    about to fall,

    dead nourishment

    for the orbit

    of aliens.

  • Theater of a System

    The muscular

    telephone wires

    connecting squirrels

    in a network

    of scurry and

    pause, are briars

    tangled and pure.

  • Paisley Was

    There is nothing

    more poetic

    than a Denny’s

    on a Tuesday

    night in some non-


    rut of suburb.

  • Cleaving to Besetzung


    rebar supports

    the concrete wall

    as it learns to

    be in the air,

    a risen thing.

  • Thorn Blossom

    Down into the infinite

    valleys of my rusty brown

    shag carpeting, I will go,

    before I say no.

  • Facing the Game

    The seriousness

    of never being serious

    is beyond

    burning, to ashes.

    Through an occasional arch

    the zagging butterfly meanders.