Poetry
Turbocharged Direct Injection times poetry seems insufficient, say in the morning, swaddled in poly, contorting to prove your recollections exist in alphabetical order, or distinguishing you, you are free and capable of feeling total betrayal, …
In July Why do I make no poems? Good my friend Now is there silence through the summer woods, In whose green depths and lawny solitudes The light is dreaming; voicings clear ascend Now from …
July I Blue July, bright July, Month of storms and gorgeous blue; Violet lightnings o’er thy sky, Heavy falls of drenching dew; Summer crown! o’er glen and glade Shrinking hyacinths in their shade; I welcome …
Story (An author speaks of himself and of his first novel.) I shot—in Vietnam—at clouds and trees. Our orders were to count our kills. They’d check: How many gooks? I’d shout out: two, three, four, …
Communion of Dust It’s how I arrived in this place. Dust. Blood. Thin figures. Shadows stretched like bars against a farm gone fallow. Gone dust. Gone wind. My grandmother said, Steinbeck never got it right. …
When June Is Here When June is here—what art have we to sing The whiteness of the lilies midst the green Of noon-tranced lawns? Or flash of roses seen Like redbirds’ wings? Or earliest ripening …
Slashed samurai gills on a hooked quivering fish resigned to the air *** Cold cup of coffee poinsettia by the window winter hugs April *** Half a carrot by the knife and teakettle... spring storm …
The Merry Month of May O the month of May, the merry month of May, So frolic, so gay, and so green, so green, so green! O, and then did I unto my true love …
A Couch She Loved Now, stacked between packed boxes lining a spare bedroom a couch she loved in a house I was tired of haunting I left because the body recognizes on its own despite …
Midwatch Steaming as before, independently Which is to say alone On a black sea with white accents I am responsible for the souls Asleep while I keep watch Scanning the horizon for running lights Scanning …
A Calendar of Sonnets: April No days such honored days as these! While yet Fair Aphrodite reigned, men seeking wide For some fair thing which should forever bide On earth, her beauteous memory to set …
A Page from the Apocrypha So God throws Adam and Eve out of paradise but they don’t slink away wailing and ashamed like the characters in Italian frescoes. Instead, Adam turns and says, “Ah, You …