Friday, July 31, 2015

My Boundless Blue Boy

My boundless blue boy is my joy –
I hang around him till I’m done
with undermining – and begun

the business of exuberance:
he helps my every involution
and protuberance to find its

rightful place, achieve the frightful
grace upon which I can build my
day. He is the jingle-jangle way.


Thursday, July 30, 2015

Does Not Bode Well

She thinks
it’s swell.

He thinks
it’s hell.


Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Never Go

I stand up at attention
when you come around:
you round and luscious

welcome intervention.
There’s something
in the metamorphic

minx in you that sinks
in me all memory
of anything besides –

well, no: all memory
of anything. You’re
the wonder my soul

slides into, the thunder
all my other parts
construe as essence.

You are all the lessons
I could need to know.
Never go.


Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Birth of Attention

A dad sits on a subway seat
across from his small child in a pram,
the apparatus pressed protectively
against the man’s paternal knee –

a boy who might be two, or three –
and whose entire interest seems to be
to see what Daddy’s looking into
on his iPad. The toddler’s candor

has no filter – full of the exactitude
of focused want without the least tight
fraught anxiety.  Finally he grabs
the black thing from his dad

and takes a look, and I see what he sees,
imagining he can’t believe the sight:
in the iPad’s rectangle of light appear
parades of tiny broken spheres

and crossed maneuvers,
small black marks whose secret gears,
all splayed in lines upon the white,
seem quite – well I cannot requite

my passion to know what the toddler
thought: it seemed he simply took it in
and took it in and took it in again:
spirit feeding on whatever Daddy

would have said he had been
reading. If I have ever seen a soul
as rapt yet unperturbed as he,
I can’t remember when.