Poetry & Prose

The Kitten

Our kitten has very personal opinions. It wants to be here. It wants to be there. Why? Nobody knows. Least of all the kitten. Climbing on me at this moment is an especially personal choice. No permission asked. Yet permission granted. What desire seeks satisfaction?...

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Aphorism #42

What does a mirror reflect when placed before another mirror, itself or the other? What do you see when you look out at the world, the world or your reflection?     w  

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Vacuum

Our electric sweeper commits unnatural acts, creating what nature abhors, absolute emptiness. Switched on, absence happens, a whirr of depletion, a surfeit of vacancy. Air rushes out. Dirtdust rushes in. Fillfulment. That’s why I bought it. It sucks.

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Two Poems on Political Thought

Autonomic Stepping into my doctor’s office, a masked woman points a gun at my head, pulls the trigger, reads the digits of my human form of fire. I pass. The right range, to a degree. Too hot, my skin would liquify. Too cold, my blood would congeal. The genius of...

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Certain Thoughts

You know the rules. I say to you. We are not supposed to think certain thoughts. Or if we think them, we have a social obligation to remain silent. Which thoughts, you ask. You know the ones, I answer. Did you hear that? No! That’s one of them.

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The ‘Murder Is Not Possible’ Defense

We are all born dying. New born or centenarian, the clock ticks, the clock ticks. Eventually, eventuality kicks in. The healthy become dead as do  the sick.\ The ratio of death to life is one to one. Death is the natural outcome of birth. It’s just a matter of time....

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Three Variations on a Theme

I. Water, envious of the cold stone bridge, longs to become solid. II. Flowing under the cold stone bridge, water freezes to slick silver. Looking down, I see the fallen moon. III. Burbling under the cold stone bridge – water - almost ice, seeks to become silent....

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The Crossing Guard

hard power engines hot tail pipes, dark tires, defensive bumpers. children, not to be had, dart edgeless through light, invisibly silent lost in the sum. a crossing guard, orange vest & gloves, a warning, not much, a gesture thrown against losses. 1972 Elgin,...

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The Empty House

We are far away from the house. Does the house sense our absence? No faucet drip for eleven days. The sink bone dry. The sun warms night from the windows. The drapes remain closed. The walls echo no sound of slippers shuffling toward first coffee. Does the floor miss...

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