We ride west for miles past tall windmill, prairie dots, anxious eagle eyesgun signs, god signs, broken fences, white sky.Crosses at the crossroads, this America is unamusedholding on to some misremembered past, a blinding white sky.Every metaphor, destruction, every forming thought fizzlesno break from a killing silence, dull road-ache, the white sky. Humorless you at … Continue reading Road Trip Ghazal
Copenhagen Misses You
The mermaid by the canal is crying. These cobblestones, they’re a hazard, my clogs have yetto break in, so my feethurt. All I want is to sip kaffe with you, watch the rain drip down the windows, lean acrossour warm little table to wipe thecroissant crumb from your cheek. Come back. Come back.
FireWear
Look, you say standing near the ash of another fallen empire the riverbed rocks show footprints wavering in the fevered air and most things too hot to touch. But you’re outfitted. cool and shiny in your anti-thermal radiation Onsie. People walked barefoot once, you think, and call out to your buddy: Hey, check this out … Continue reading FireWear
Small
We were summertime vacation babysitters on a night “off” from the chaos of children of mostly absent parents. Hiking a great dune at sunset seemed a good idea. Strand lights twinkled below. The black ocean lapped the shore mid-distance. I don’t remember her name. We were both invisible that week, and she won’t remember mine. … Continue reading Small
Day 2-Roads, I’ve Written Them
Shouldered a futon all the way from The Bowery to Brattleboro Left my high heels in a box by an alley door, saved myself From bunions – and probably more Times when the compass pointed east I looked west and wondered Ticket on a table, I said No thanks Rainbow Room, moonlight swim, panty hose, … Continue reading Day 2-Roads, I’ve Written Them
Early Morning Poems 