Poems

On a shore in west Montana the universe grinds on a stone. Waters rush, sturdy grasses rustle. Farther out, bright-eyed iridescent trout hunt trap-mouthed for plump, delicious bugs flashing in the sun. Nearby, stolid mountains faking sleep, await orders from deep...

Three girls arrived in all loveliness that is the blossoming of women, and sat at a table near mine in bright conversation. Suddenly two boys appeared like lightening without the storm and sat down with them slovenly, pink knees  jagged through jean holes and caps...

The planet is dead Killed by cold children Playing with fire.  

            after reading Japanese death poems I am against death, not dying, exactly, but death, the way we do it. We don’t do death, death does us. Death is not a temporary inconvenience, certainly not for the deceased. When it’s over, mourners want to get in the...

A ghost of dead Romans. A strange tree flowers and is cut down. Straight sidewalks, ancient dust. A bell rings and stops ringing. Drums resist being beaten but are beat anyway. The sticks rape the flesh of the drums. An old rabbi begins to grasp what is happening. The...

A man sinks beneath the water immersed in useless oxygen, and the fish flops on the beach, surrounded by wasted air. Death to the man is life to the fish and life to the man is death to the fish. Yet, each are elemental breathers, distilling oxygen from water,,...

the whole world the hole whirled toward reversals  a retreat a rally, a sally a recoiling finale