Monday, April 22, 2013

How You Get It

Two guardian
and a hat.

You get your
from that.


Sunday, April 21, 2013

This May Have Something to Do with Spring

We haven’t moved.
We never will.
We’re where
we’ll always be.

Without a center,
edge or form,
we are Eternity –
to which we

occupy the same
relation, cold
or warm, it does
to you and me

No escaping
where we are.
Why does that
seem so bizarre?


Saturday, April 20, 2013

In Lilac Light

In lilac light
a week or two away
from May,

one might
be moved to say
the time is right

to dress up
for the night –
to plan a sweet soirée

for somebody
and you.
But who?


Friday, April 19, 2013


by the alien
morphology –

the untoward shapes –
you can't foresee
the usual agendas

of the species
you were sure
they had to be.

They are looking
So very far

from what
you thought
they were about.

There’s not a single
plausible alternative
to doubt.


Thursday, April 18, 2013

Just Put on Something Pretty for It

Sitting in your Spring dress
waiting for the Spring –
which would appear
determined to be late this year –

is surely just the thing
to bring the evidently
fearful Spring about.
Frontally accosting it –

railing at it for its incapacities –
would just exacerbate
its vast apparent nervousness
and doubt. No need to shout.

Just put on something
pretty for it. Wait it out.


Wednesday, April 17, 2013


He passes you,
preoccupied – then
through a sidelong glance

he reels you in
with such alacrity and depth
it steals your breath.

Are we transparent
to whoever pays attention
to us till it’s burned?

Wonder if
that can
be learned.


Tuesday, April 16, 2013

What We Love

We love
the predawn hours.
The predawn hours
are ours.


Monday, April 15, 2013

Rude Hairdo


Feeling blue,

change your
Make it rude.


Sunday, April 14, 2013

Après-Sex with Aliens

Your canoodling maneuvers are fini.
You each have plumbed each other’s circuitry
without too much unwillingness.
It wasn’t some drear chilling mess.

You successfully collectively contrived to come.
You’re dumb, a little numb.
No words for this.
You remember you forgot to kiss.


Saturday, April 13, 2013

If Flame had a Face

If flame
had a face,
it wouldn’t
be yours –
and yet

its contours
might suggest
a blest breath
of what
you radiate.

You’d both
have some blue
in you, true –
and a similar

in the blinding
white light
that you'd
share at
the core.

But it would
have less
of what you


Friday, April 12, 2013

South of Two and North of One


Here comes that late inevitable moment
when you wake – shot out of any possibility
of harmony and confluence: burped
abruptly into sharp insidious incongruence –
somewhere south of Two and north of One –

stranded in the new unexpurgated Purgatory
of an estuarially mixed alertness:
consciousness, all edge and jerk. Hmm:
who’s that little blue nude flying dude?
Perhaps he’ll lull you back to murk.


Thursday, April 11, 2013

A Critic Opines

pretension! –
though no less

for its faux pas,”
he thrilled as if
he’d trilled
a tra-la-la.


Wednesday, April 10, 2013

The Buck Stops Here

You thought it was symbolic
but it wasn’t.
You want it to have meaning
but it doesn’t.


Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Within, Without


Influences brew
through each dimension.
Their instruments are DNA,
imagination, and a rapt

unutterable sentience held –
within, without –
in soft suspension.  
Antecedent spirits heed you –

need you: breed –
exempt you from the old
and tempt you
into new creation.


Monday, April 8, 2013

The Real Miss Muffet

The real Miss Muffet sits not on a tuffet.
She sits on a hard wood stool.
Spiders do not sit beside her to bluff at
her. Lord knows she never eats gruel.

So how did this lady get stuck in a verse?
Who thought to write and preserve it?
Was Muffet subjected to some vile curse?
What had she done to deserve it?

We don’t have any idea, we must say –
and neither, it seems, does Miss Muffet –
who tipples Blue Curacao all through the day,
reciting Stendhal to her puppet.


Sunday, April 7, 2013

To Bill, Who Sleepwalks

Funny how you always want to know
what happens next.
Until you don’t.

You hope your dreams will be a flow
of some illuminating text.
Oh Bill. They won’t.

(n.b.: "Bill" exists entirely in the poem. He's not anyone I 'actually' know.)

Saturday, April 6, 2013

These Questions

What’s a blessing?
Does it require
confessing to Sublimity?

Does it proceed
from a Divinity? 
Is it something saying

that it understands?
Does it involve
the laying on of hands?

What is spirit?
Are we far from it
or near it? What does

it mean to pray?
Why don’t these
questions go away?


Friday, April 5, 2013

This Thing You Do

Ruling your
dark realms
Too many



Thursday, April 4, 2013

A Secret

In chill green shadows
of reluctant Spring
whose portents bring
no guarantee of scented
flower or singing bird,

a secret’s passed to you
you wish you hadn’t heard.
Now it has nowhere
to go. There’s nothing
to do but know.


Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Sometimes Sitting Naked with a Friend

Sometimes sitting naked
with a friend
can lend
a certain comprehension
of the mystical.

All the competition –
egotistical exasperation –
in the day,
waft away – permit you

both to undergo
an unconsidered
even flow
of nothing

but whatever
was each other’s.
As if you’d
been born

with a secret –
with nothing
to challenge
or to damage it.

At least, that’s how,
if this were ever
to occur to me,
I might
imagine it.


Tuesday, April 2, 2013

There are Words for You


You are
not a fruit.

You’re barely
sentient mud.
a penchant

for gratuitous
You bleed
the thickest blood.

You’re a mole
without a purpose –

just below
the surface
in the rain.


Monday, April 1, 2013

Cosmological Constant, Revealed

Like toxic semen,
demons pop.
You cannot
make them stop.

They fuck
the quantum level up.
Each wanton devil
will erupt

in parallel
realities to spark
them into terror
like a shark –

and watch
their atoms scatter.
are dark matter.