(De)crypt(ed)

Who will calculate for us the cost of our decision to forget?
--George Seferis

Of those departed
and of their deeds

(most haunting,
most memorable)

naught was left

(undeciphered,
unforgettable)

to remember.

Thomas Alva Edison, 1949

I knew who Thomas Alva was by heart;
he was always twenty-five, suspended

over my bed like a bat, though
he was really a light bulb.

Thomas must have flickered and died
about twenty-five times before Momma said

she'd had enough: I'd go blind reading
comics in that bad light. She was right,

besides, it was cheaper,
so she burned them all one night.

.

Thomas Alva, wherever you are,
you helped me with the English I know,

it was all Greek to me, though
you never knew it--

I hope you're resting
yours truly, your enlightened

incandescent soul.

(First published in Maverick Magazine 6/7)

Saturation Point

radio

active


bee

sieging


deci-

mated


hearth.

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

Confluence

Nightingales near
the river.

No superfluous noise.

(from The Intricate Evasions of As)

Prehensile

Grasping, but not man-
Handling the language,

As if the poem were,
So to speak, a glass

Mandible.

(First published in Poetry Salzburg Review #11, Spring 2007)