A Hunch

Unchained, the shoulders expand,
drop the boulders on the phantom's
feet breathing on your nape. You:
older, vigorous, yet new.
Look: the horizon seething,
although, surely someone
must have seized it. Already
a native sweats, freezes,
thinks occasionally, sometimes sneezes.
And his father worked the soil.
No. His father barely toiled, it was
his grandfather, if that.
The ground's intact, just like here.
Your shoulders only fill with fear
of running on your treadmill again,
to flee, as you have been.
You've been kind, but it's been done.
You've been wet, and you've been numb.
After you sneezed, you narrowed your
reddened eyes and decided to vacuum.
You thought during that, and after that you
stretched to feel life pulsing, to try to feel the power
of your arms in full swing.
It was convincing.
you confirm that by spying
around, you groan, or make any sound to lie.
Can you turn back though? How would you know then, if I
saw you tap your toe? But I, too, show.
Ennui is the twitch of knee
You can see that I, too, movement feign.
That I hunch from a cold neck, unchanged.



I wish I could have not seen
her tumble down to darkness,
for after that there was (it seemed)
only silence as she stumbled over
the tracks in her drunken fog to reach
the dim lights of life above wailing to her,
although that could have been the
train (or rather its breaks screeching)
patiently expecting to inhale its
customary load and spit them out
according to their wishes. But
I wish I could not have seen her
body on the news later because
they could not (obviously)
lift the train right then and there
to get her out from under it,
and so trailed it anxiously,
waiting on the machine to
finally excrete it.
I did not see on the news what
happened to the train, but I assume
it was (naturally) too much of a hassle to
clean the blood off of its stomach.


Taking Down The Painting

chew this
Judas was foolish
soon as the deed was through with
Mr. Iscariot exited stage left
abstract and moot as the moon is
truly useless
our hero returned while
Judas turned slow right then
back left
bereft of all for all he reft
eaten up and powerless

now here's a mess
I confess I've gnawed to death my phantom limb
great betrayer of all of us
drubbing Judas the little dunce
drawing life from olden rust
it snickers offstage and sings thus

I'm the wound in the wall!
I've left you a line,
just tug it to call!

it pulls at the spine
in its loneliness
it misses a friend's caress I guess
lonely spider wire
I bite your silk but too soon come
the fangs and then
the abscess
why gnaw this
why tear rip slit or saw this
it's no use
after all it's only a noose to take off
it's loose

now silent but o it hung,
so it sung
the scar tissue now fading as
dust covers the wall anew
so at last entombing you

view our room
a great graveyard of the past
here rest tired wings and broken masts
we will flutter
we will sail but will not last

do not ask when why or who
sow your seeds among the dead
walk instead among the few
content you'll grow as others grew
drift and row
without rue.


A House Built on Burial Grounds

you and I are not alike
ruin, I and
you alight
you usurp the
lunar light
you efface the beauty
of the night
you incite the graying passing
of my light
the incipit of new life is
blighted by the phantoms floating
in and out of waking dreams
stabbing through my memories
smirking on the black veil of my
eyelids squeezed
I wish to be blinded when you haunt me


On the Peace After a Snowstorm

machine whispers hissing
seething in the cities spitting
fumes rolling off black tongues licking
wounds weeping molten bleeding
molting its plate metal beating
its chest a new shrill rhythm emerging
in the cracks under its feet
in the life in the shit heap.

july is the smog of
our blood boiling and
the anguish as the sweet
steals away and the acrid
limps in our nostrils
it shambles it hobbles
assaulting our senses
is the din the discord
tattoos crescendo more
and more and more.

i will bleed no more
when the januair bites
me with my every breath.

i will bleed no more
when tinnitus swells
in place of drones of death.

i will bleed no more
when the snow's silence
brings furious pain.

i will bleed no more
when april comes
with its warm cruel rains.


A Challenge

this stanza is
a desecration of
the infinity around it

examine this word
examine this stanza

look at a blank sheet
of paper and find
the pattern constructing it

continue it


The Poet Upon Entering Heaven

The Poet Upon Entering Heaven

Roused. Leave me weeped, for the weepers have.
I have stood somber vigils at your feet mad
that you secured an exit while I just stood tense.

Now I'm granted a room for myself?
A door in the partition, the key on my neck? Well,
I refuse. My memory rebirthed the inhabitants.

And rightly so, let no strangers be allowed in my Paradise!
Knock and knock, I am content to suck my ice,
Tasting my last White Russian, hints of cream, foggy

Surely there's a reason for this prison I hate.
Before I was not wont to somnambulate
but perhaps I will take up the hobby.


First Passion

First Passion

The back porch on a summer night
the greenness in the dark is
watching and is also watched

A gust sends the bristles in
but the roots warm the blood
flows the daze unhazes

Flurries bite and feed the
flame inside it kilns the snow out
side to slopes to hills to worlds

The sun inside is pulsing blind
and tonguing the dark green
grapples seeming ceaseless caseless chaos

Dawn is always ending somewhere
and beginning in the depths of night
noon is shining on the moon in ecstasy.


When She Walks By

When She Walks By

When she walks by the flowers gossip
and their eyes follow her, alert,
later they water the grass like crying faucets.

The sun pouts, deeply hurt.
The flowers watch her dance
and not the great Inert.

And watch the moon advance
like a cocky bachelor in the sky.
Her eyes! Soon he is but a nightlight in a trance.

Always on the move, butterflies
feel atoms in their stomachs, excited
as I am when she walks by.


In Memoriam

I bring yellow tulips to the grave
and hope you will stand looking down
as I have for months, a life
the shape of a mountain.
Webbed net wings flew, freezing,
through the coldest winds, undone by
May's gusts, bringing the fall
while others were rising.

The thaw that burned a dragonfly's wings.

They gathered around a limp body
leaking salt water
and they could only ask
"But who is the father?"
No denial. I could say:

The angel was late, but we both know
that is a lie.


The Trial

The Trial

The light was the path from a closed door,
The four coroners, arms spread, bringing
only wonder. What shadows flicker
under it as we pace the corridor of portals,
like riled up infants with demands.

nous entendons.

The dark was the frame swept away,
The flood, the flame engulfing everything.
An auto da fé bifurcating the eyes,
One receding into shadow to view
our immolation.

Nous entendons Demain.

The Fall

The Fall

It all dropped a
way leaving the hole
to pretend its namesake's
leap never happened.
The infant wound squirmed,
the others clutching their
sides in pain,

Cover it, but do
not let it heal.




the druthe or the dark
cmere it spits alow a bark
alonesome without the stone
crying to cure the flowers of their wilt

walk, stagger.
to take, tick,
tacketter, thr.

Where has the horror gone
offen drowned himself into?


For Pilinszky János

For Pilinszky János

The rain.
Or maybe
your eyes under
your hands over
your muttering mouth,
dripping with ventriloquism.


Our roots
now weed
only ruin and
I stand shivering
like a forest in flames.


Two Views of the Same Thing

Two Views of the Same Thing

It is when the night
is when an eye is
the moon is broken
off and falls like an
open the oval forms
into the lights of
rain that froze and
one that rose is
a sleep underneath

Cold is the blanket
to wrap around the self
is feeling how loud
one move is


The Bell

The Bell

Oh how he hangs

Quivering re
covering and
covering his
naked body
so arched and
hanged by his
back to sing
from the top

My back hurts
and stop hitting me




To Rachel

You sat upon your father's idols.
He has taken them back,
and you. And your
name and hands:
twisted and mangled, the
sun of your morning

The vivid sky! The
face of all things alive, and
our soaring love
directed only at the earth.


Se Souvenir

Se Souvenir

An unmolded lump of clay,
a Rorschach study session,
a perfect gift for someone
traveling West.




Remember when
under winter's white skirt
we hid, and the snow outside
blackened next to your back,
because I saw only white with
my hands and lips.

Do you?


The Blind Mirror

The Blind Mirror

Every folding mirror hides
an emptiness unfolding.
If only glassy eyes
would recede, revealing
infinitely, the dark,
the empty nothing.

Throw a sideways glance at yourself.

Light struggles in
through cracks,
an ironic foreshadowing
borne at birth.




the beginning there
wasn't, for there had
always been,
but there was now

& in
nards formed,
filled with roses.
life within life,
swimming in rivers;
Self birth:
tears of pain
tears of joy

& in
action, in
ertia, in
the grass he
ponders his own
undying re
flection in the

& In
ane existence,
blissful, is in
stead replaced in
exorably, in
arched to
the mind

& in
to view she
walks, she dances, is
as she had been,
before him,
before the fire
inside him.
& in
finity was
raped into
an ampersand





If I could tell you
that in the face of
both our worlds collapsing,
I would tell you that it'd be
worth it, then
I wouldn't.




Something is amiss
standing in the rain,
pelted by the spittle of our
grandchildren tongues
tearing our
thoughts from whence the only sound is

and you understand.

Please understand, this is not an
accusation, it is simply another way of saying:

You never fucking understand me,
Am I speaking another language or something?




Past: Pat passed.
Rain pats rats, pitter patter.
In the sewers; chitter chatter:
"Do her, sue her", in the litter.

Latter; Pat sits, stately
A date bleats:
The rosy prose of
proles rolls out her mouth
but shrouded
behind crowded
words, faux wise.
Why's it right
the unqualified rise?

And next, who'd
care? doomed are we.
Stuck in the



Th'isthmus, the
kiss betwixt us, thus
there was, there is
there, this twisting of
tongues; stopped as
time stopped stopping.
My thumbs on either side,
fingers snug on waists
felt the fire of our dawn
and the smokeless air hung,
watching us hold our breath.
the crepuscular clarity of
your green eyes




The hum
The doldrum
The errati

Power lines with
birds growing on them.
Sour lies, whispers.

the, rhythms
sputtering f

This is an
insect revolution.
Inspect evolution
It is frozen for you all.

Or life.
oh, dear life.
You have ende