Blasphemous Intimations of Mortality

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

1.

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?

2.

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,
Good.

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

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.

Mantra

once

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)

Sorrow Is

a lone flashing

oar down the river of no

return.



(First published in Poetry Salzburg Review #14, Autumn 2008)