Thursday, January 29, 2009

Bookmark, Selected Poems, William Carlos Williams


of these fragile dry
still fragrant yellow-

green stems & leaves
of wild clover pressed


the descent
of winter


the locust tree
in flower,

the sense of spring.

The Origin of Species

On top of poems are written
Other poems, thus

The destruction of the world's

(from The Intricate Evasions of As)

Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Monday, January 26, 2009

Small-Town Bootblack vs Clunkers, Raymond, Washington, circa 1960: My Almost Inaugural Poem


Tooling by that run-down
Shoeshine stand

In their souped-up clunkers,
Our honkies must have thought

The town's sole token Nigger
Ned couldn't tell shit from Shineola;

And that they surely had it over
Him to boot.

I guess that explains why
He was never caught hauling

Smart-ass white punks like us a hundred
Miles to his whores in the city and back

Come late every Saturday night
In that beautiful, sharp, shining, slick

Mother-fucking classic of a black
Eldorado Cadillac.

POSTSCRIPT: I was seriously considering posting this poem before President Obama's inauguration ceremony but decided against it for fear of having my blog flagged for using vulgar, offensive language. However, after reading Ron Silliman's blog which had a link to a Guardian
article about a high school "teacher" in my former home state of Washington, I had second thoughts about not posting it. Hope nobody's offended.

Saturday, January 24, 2009

How I Was Cured of Hunting


thrush in thicket

after its wound,
a sprig

of therapeutic


no in its bleeding

(First published in Shearsman 62)

Friday, January 23, 2009


Jackdaw chatters on
Tip of blighted cypress,

Biting acid tongue.

(First published in NOON: journal of the short poem, #2)

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Et in Arcadia ego

I remember

It must have been
Way back then

One spring it was poetic
I was sprightly

Dallying a way behind
Dilapidated swayback nag when

She sent my way a waft
Of her reeking

Slow ancient hind-
Quarters from what seemed half,

Nay, a whole classic pastoral
Country mile away--

I must tell you

I was genuinely
Swept away.

(First published in First Intensity #21, Fall 2006)

Monday, January 19, 2009


curioCity kills Bloody Marys
maraschino cherries Pop guns
gang bangs poontang rat snitches
and Edsel squeals

cathouse beldams melt hams down
dog days nightmares ride hunchbacks
warning lights stop critters peeling
rubber dead in their tracks

cornered but ornery
disembodied vulvas bare back
their teeth like

the Cheshire cat.

(First published in Maverick Magazine 6/7)

Sunday, January 18, 2009

Skid Row



taking off


of run-down



bum on landing.

(First published in Poetry Salzburg Review #9, Spring 2006)

Friday, January 16, 2009

Cultivating the Species


Plenty of progeny,
My son--

Weed the pigweed
From the garden

When they're young.

(First published in Arabesques Review, v.2, issue 4)

Not So Scrappy Scrap Mental Man

To foundry,
To foundry,

To found
A mine pig,

Home again,
Home again,

Mind full
Of pig iron,


Thursday, January 15, 2009

Depression in Ft. Atkinson, Wisconsin

Remember our pale, blue
Picket fence, Dad?

We painted it,
As good as new.

You stepped on the gas
Instead of braking,

Shot the Chevy thru.

(First published in Poetry Salzburg Review #2, Winter 2001/2002)

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Under Wraps

The mole stays underground,
The moon's undercover;

Everything's understood.

(from The Intricate Evasions of As)

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Sunday, January 11, 2009


--for John Levy, who was there

a goat prancing?

cross the stream
clearly all

this must be sure

fancy dancing, you
have to look before

you leap.

(First published in Mobius, Spring & Summer, 2005)

Saturday, January 10, 2009

Pan: A "Tragic" Dilemma

Another priceless, classic postcard aimed at the hoards of tourists who literally flocked to Greece in the 60s; to fully appreciate the pun in the title, the reader should be aware that Pan i.e. "billy-goat" is "tragos" in Modern Greek. One wonders what our cloven-hooved friend ended up doing after he'd finished scratching his horny head.

Friday, January 9, 2009

Thursday, January 8, 2009

Blasphemous Intimations of Mortality

Was wirst du tun, Gott, wenn ich sterbe?
--Rainier Maria Rilke


You fuck,

I keep telling this
Fly around my head,

Take a flying fuck,
Fuck you. But when

I die, dear God,
Who will fuck

The fly, You?


spleen on the fly

Oh, yeah?

You want some fuckin'
Dead meat?

I'll give you some,
You cocky mother

Fuck her, God
I done

Swat her,

(First published in First Intensity #21, Fall 2006)

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Labor of Love

You have to haul
The scattered vatic

Entrails of diplomats
Back to the eviscerated

Halls of peace,
Unravel them on

An unfolding
Crimson carpet,

Make the meaning
Whole again,

Piece by piece.

(First published in The London Magazine February-March 2003)

Recently Linked; DNL #7

My thanks to Annie Wyndham for linking my blog to hers and to Cassandra for becoming another Definitely Not Lemmings--much appreciated.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009



she said she feared
the way

she looked at me,
she feared the way

she looked at me,
she said it rhythmically

in such a way
it went away.

(First published in Noon: Journal of the Short Poem, #3)
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