Poet's Bugaboo

Jiminy Cricket! 

Sometimes I’m afraid 

I’m past all grace when 

I feel so smug I expect 

My next feat to come swaggering 

On all six legs out from under the tongue 

Of an army surplus boot and spit 

Flush in my face. 

Speak Not Double Talk of Death

I fear all that can be said 

Has been said before, also 

That nothing has been said before— 

This nothing is what terrifies me 

More than any gibberish said before. 

Great Blue Heron on the Wing

—after reading Robinson Jeffers’ “Autumn Evening” 

Slow wit, if you think this 

Bird ungainly, don’t — 

Imagine how 

Ridiculous you look, trying 

To take off after

Second thoughts again. 

Nightshade

Dearies, 

I want nothing to do with light- 

Hearted blank verse or rhyming 

Structures like ear, hear, near— 

I want nothing but tendrils 

Untouched by bittersweet 

Nothings clinging 

To bier after bier after bier. 

Building for the Future: One Less Vacant Lot

At this point, I don’t know 

What is more edifying—looking 

At photos of the World Trade Center 

Before and after 9/11 or reading 

Eliot’s Wasteland for the nth time— 

Any way you look at it, 

It looks like we’re long past 

The point of no return 

On our investment.