Coming Clean At Last

When you feel up to it, 

Feel free to write in 

The persona of one unwilling

To exist outside himself— 

If you do, be a sport 

And rub out every ineffable 

Trace of his presence—painful 

As it is, it’ll spare the both of us 

A world of disconsolate grief. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Double Crossed Subject/Object Matter

the

in- 

no- 

cent 

gilt- 

 

edged 

mir- 

ror 

frames 

no- 

 

thing 

specious 

in 

it- 

self 

 

save 

the 

precious 

image 

you 

 

project 

to 

cover 

your 

abject 

 

about- 

face.

 

 

 

 

 

 

From A Poet's Handbook: A Poem Should Be (23)

To all those unwilling 

To face it, revolutionary 

 

And easy to digest— 

Even those hard ones 

 

Whose subject matter’s 

Revolting—say how 

 

Sickening the image 

Of a starving child is. 

 

 

 

 

Domicile Of The Empathic Heart

 

In the dead of winter 

Huddled over, kindling 

 

A lone dying hearth. 

 

 

 

Sappho's

[ ] [ ] [ ] 

 

ex 

plosive 

               frag 

[ ] [ ] [ ] 

 

meant 

to 

be

 

[ ] [ ] [ ] 

 

loving[ly] ex 

 

[pli-] 

[ca-] 

[ted] 

 

[ ] [ ] [ ] 

 

[from?] 

 

[dia] [pha] [nous]

 

pleats

in 

her 

enamored

 

[memory?] [now]

 

[ ] [ ] [ ] 

[ ] [ ] [ ] 

 

by ravenous moths torn 

 

[ ] [ ] [ ] 

[ ] [ ] [ ] 

[ ] [ ] [ ] 

[ ] [ ] [ ] 

[ ] [ ] [ ] 

[ ] [ ] [ ]

 

to shreds.

 

A Rose Is A Rose Is A Rose Tattoo

 

Get that thorn off 

Your chest—what 

 

The indifferent eye fails 

To take in, the still willing 

 

Anxious heart torn in two will, 

And all those now too timid 

 

To reveal it shall soon be 

Wearing it on 

 

Their bloody sleeves, too. 

 

 

 

Another Holy Mountain, Believe It Or Not

This time 

It’s Zeus’s so-called ladder- 

Like Mt Ithome that climbs 

 

To where the air is still 

Alive they say with spirits 

Of the undying 

 

Ancients that have 

Yet to exhaust that one 

Last precious breath needed

 

To ascend there.