Wolfbane

Moonstruck, a banshee’s wailing—why 

Is the wind not howling 

Huddled behind my door?

Fragment of Logbook Entry, Greek Dark Ages

. . .unverified sighting of sea creature 

resembling Kraken reported. . . . . . .

. . . unintelligible spreading. . . . . . .

inkblot on surface pointing 

fingers not so rosy dawn 

crawling over edge— 

take it down!

A Penny for Your Thoughts, Your Honor

Your precious daughter, Jerri Prudence? 

She ain’t worth a plugged nickel 

No more—she done 

Hollered dirty copper after— 

Not before I robbed her cradle— 

She ain’t gonna throw no porno look at me 

No more.

An Epic, More or Less

He who hopes to grow in spirit. . . . 

will not be afraid of the destructive act: 

half the house will have to come down. 

—Cavafy, “Growing in Spirit” 

If that’s what the old man believes

Muse, keep piling on the detritus— 

Then have caterpillars tread on me, 

Mopping up the mess. 

Realtor Turned Politician Selling America

Nothing specious about 

this property 

so deceptively spacious 

and so upfront—just 

imagine you’re a midget

playing pool with an ace 

up your sleeve, a big white house 

in your ass pocket.