Poetry

The Explanation

He shovels his walk Like an old man, Pleased at having Something to do with His hands and mind, Grateful for the excuse To stand in the winter sun And peer at salt-crusted cars.

Lover

She sticks out through the sores, Though the room is full of blisters. She seeps through the stench Of the pus-people, Removing the filth bandage, Reviving the gangrene limbs, Restoring two hundred pounds To a bed-ridden invalid.

The Bar/The Dance

She wags her ass In front of his nose Like some bitch in heat Shimmering  Shimmering Until his wild eyes cloud And his nostrils flair  Swimming Swimming Until he lurches forward In his crude doggy paddle Humping straddle Humping straddle… Read More ›

Early Spring

Window watching Whisper white snow Blowing — In whirls and twirls Onto a slick, wet road, Flowing — Mush, waiting, Dripping drops of slush Down a drain pipe grating.   Window watching Whisper white snow Flying — Through the tangled,… Read More ›

In the Spring

I thought we were two through summer, though fall I felt your sting. I tried revival  all winter, but I couldn’t survive a thing, and just when I  thought blossoms arrived, the skies cried this spring.