Thursday, December 19, 2019


"En ce temps que j'ay dit devant/Sur le Noel, morte saison,/Que les loups se vivent de vent/Et qu'on se tient en sa maison" François Villon, Le Lais.

Monday, December 02, 2019


Dusk unadorned
                             (shade figures
                              all bodies in
                              brooding relief)
awaits opulent Nyx.

She lets her hair down
                                      (festooned with diamonds
                                       sometimes dimmed by
                                       a large pearl brooch)
and untangles splendor.

Wednesday, November 13, 2019

Cradle Moon

"...and in the soft, pale brilliance of the night she sensed a preternatural stirring, the tremor of impossible hopes, as though bliss were on the breeze."

Saturday, October 19, 2019

Limbs Read

"I have witnessed the wood's insomnia/And the fields at rest."
Milestones, #65, Marina Tsvetaeva.

Thursday, October 17, 2019

At the Protest

At the protest with the committee approved placard and appropriately colored
hat you showed respect for authority. You thanked the police for their service
as they arrested you. If their fellow officers roughed up some of your comrades,
maybe they deserved it. When you were quickly bailed out the pride of accomplishing
a civic duty filled you. You rushed home and told family and friends about your
adventure. How you behaved with strength and dignity! Alone you managed to spare
                a thought for your less fortunate friends still locked up.

Tuesday, October 15, 2019


Fond gold of full summer Moon kisses skin like smitten Sun.
Under heaven's favor en route to the crowded concourse
my heart was pure, no expectation polluted
blood flooding my body with tenderness.

Doors opened and there she stood
exquisite as a deposed Queen.
Never so stunning in white
that bound and abashed.

Kings long passed slaughtered thousands
for a woman's favor and I understood.

To dishevel her hair I threw the top down.
The stereo blasted to nix small talk.
Inhuman to look so captivating.
Incensed, I punctuated a terse "goodnight"
with violent embrace.

spirit and sense snuffed,
I curled like smoke
under red sheets
and dreamt massacre.

Friday, October 11, 2019

My Little Angel

"Dogs read the world through their noses."--J.R. Ackerley. (Angel's expressive eyes tell a different story.)

Tuesday, September 03, 2019


Tumble of buds when leaves blush hues.
Summer brides and grooms imbue
Harvest Sun's mantle.

Rain dampens tender
as maternity's kiss,
life dishevels hair.

The crisp scent of bark,
carried by clement wind,
assents air's clarity.

Saturday, August 24, 2019

Fire This Time

The crab's girdle fastens tight and the fire this time stops breath.
Wheezing poets cough up spiritless ash not verse.

Amazon's crown fires glow infernal
as composed blue blood flows formal.
Abattoir sans souci douses alarm in tranquil
appeal to the practical grace of technology.

The Amazon still burns.
Buy Oxygen tank shares
and profit off the prescribed
sharecropping of fresh air.

In every holocaust there's opportunity.
Let it burn, strangle billions to death,
to rake up greener leaves with impunity.

Yes, darling, the Amazon is burning,
but will our world ever stop turning?

Thursday, July 04, 2019


Breathless and garrulous vendors of spirit,
ambassadors of banquet table homage,
itinerant apostles of eternal swindles!
Ten thousand mirrors in space
capture it all!
Paeans for every matricide and rapist,
the glories of war and rapine,
how sweet to sing famine
gorged to the chins!
Laying waste forests
and naming it a piece
for a negotiated percent
from the publishing house of
Penbuzzard and Accidental Hovel!
The Muses sold Helicon avant crash and reside,
luxuriously enough to make Sallust blush,
at a Château just south of Perpignan.
Naive, Inc drains the Hippocrene
to make energy drinks
for fitness club Dandies
                                         as Poetasters cram reams and screens
                                         while Poets in urbane garrets die of thirst.

Friday, June 28, 2019

Curtain Fall Oak

       Limbs rise
     to open palm

   The sinister wrist,
shattered then broken,
     never touches

Gold curtain heavens
    overhead tempt
  like beauty's shade
  behind translucent

Sunday, June 09, 2019


Seize strains
  of Sun sweetly
 falling string.

Dive deep
  with temptation
  shiny hook.

I've cast deep into blue.
Impression dilates
in concentric spheres.

The fatal moment
  when mouths close.
  My stick bends
 to the sad weight
  depths hold dear.

               In the clear,
                  twist tail, gasp on thin air--
                          find breath in a bucket.

         Your vanquished eyes
               never close.

Sunday, June 02, 2019


We bend to abstruse meandering but
  poets sup on wishes to be written.

      We shun the inexorable end,
 while poets sing want's incantation.

     Essence true unthinkable
         with so much plastic
             this hunger for
      the captivating twilight
                of covered

Thursday, May 30, 2019

Sebald's Lust (A Death Machine Farce)

                   Sometimes devastation is like being carpet bombed with pleasure(Written by me as a line Sebald would have composed after inspecting rubble of Raqqa).

(No surprise W.G. Sebald tirelessly labored to bury ruins under fine phrases like Pentagon/NATO spokespeople gallantly regret leveling cities far from their "homeland".)

Friday, May 10, 2019

Calypso's Tears

He was false,
  but dawn rested
 on his word.

No Adonis,
    but he snared
 with net surer
   than Hephaestus'.

His arms warmly
    received me.

  With words sweet
as curséd pomegranates
   his cool breath
    stole into me.

This song
  runs aground
damp cheeks.

To him it was.
In me a sunken whisper remains,

         As the white mote grows fainter
                on monotonous blue.


Tuesday, May 07, 2019


One "t" bends knees, a plaintive close of eyes--canticle of delicate gestures. 

Monday, February 11, 2019

From a Terrace (Aosta)

Sleek hair spills cursive on skin,
hue cinnabar scent hyacinth,
spells forms pliant.

                                     Bise kiss gusting
                                     as light tucks wing
                                     to brisk evening.

Sunday, January 27, 2019

" this great convict-settlement"

     "Wealth and despotism easily know how to engage those laws as the coadjutors of their oppression, which were first intended for the safeguards of the poor."

                      --- Caleb Williams, William Godwin, Vol. 1, Ch. IX.

Saturday, January 19, 2019


broken berth,
nothing's mooring.

Pregnant absence
lifelong for the
lifeless silence

That breaks earth in
the heart beating
solely for two.