Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Brother Shade

The auction of teeth left you weeping
More so than the carrion dogs
Made of straw or
The bog near the crowded road to the windy house where
The murdered child lay for centuries, undiscovered.

With calm hands you weave a ferry
And with magical eyes conjure a boatman
How is it, now, that you are surprised?
The weedy waterway carries your friend away
The silence is evidence that the guilty escape
And the innocent are condemned.

Sunday, June 28, 2009

Things That Come and Go


Rushing the fallen road
Better to decompose than have all the tomorrows of the world
The galloping harm happens to stop at the inside bridge where
Decency and rage capsize- sinking abreast
Would not they expect some form of special treatment?
The wax saloon is filled with knocking
The sound of the cemetery gates bumping
Grief is loose and un-announced
Expected mourning comes a rolling, drinking, clinking in consolation
The terrible poor nail shut the opening,
Wailing something about an elixir.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

What Is Is


Happy/Sad that little feeling
Seeing the siblings at the piano
Like the time down in old Eccles street
But, now running the young where
They held their sides running them to killing day
Wonder he left upset around the dying bed
The animal corporation left all in little boats
and hastens the course of their incurable disease: the road rising
To the slaughterhouse where meat
Works against itself
Works against loneliness

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Daedalus' Lament

He knows he owns his own insanity
As though the practice of infantasy
is largely used to wear out his welcome among the stones.
but it is true that only paupers,
rushing to the grave, leave in ecstasy.

Why, Daedalus told me just this morning
leading him drunkenly through the life of Saturday
he’d repented flying for the grace of charity,
night will only have a wooden mercy a
damned stake through the heart of sympathy
following him about the broken places
of misadventure and misplaced memories.

Saturday, June 20, 2009

All This Confusion

A tiny catholic in a mad coffin
nature’s dwarf settles for this moment
the railway wind finds its way into the night and
the sun breaks down to reveal its unusual heart.

Now the dull days turn suddenly to color
the bachelor father sees his wrinkled mistakes and
prays for atonement, or at least a cure for this sadness.
Hats on chests -hardly a week goes by without some lord
giving us a rueful ritual
a burial of sighs
-poor darkness.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009


Cunning man he tried to drown
but cried for a boatman
affirmed, the dead with half a notion
threw him back laughing
the loose hero quietly too much
choked on water his slack face
betrayed his fright
the ocean loose round his
father's island- the awful son
faces an inevitable return.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Seems Like

The figure's form
at twenty past eleven is
a wife in the shape of noise
as if someone played out a smile.
The tribe of morning
finally arrives in a terrible
hat of light and longing to present
its particular bill of particulars, the stage
is set.
Bring now hands of hair
unclasped- the devil comes in
riding an elephant and smoking, bent on
corrupting the last beautiful thing but, as always
insisting on politness.
The proprieties will be observed at all tymes!

Wednesday, June 10, 2009


A bright-wet afternoon
the shape of shoulders, and, next week:
fun with nails.

We clasp hands amongst the operas and the accounts of other feelings
we check our cheeks to see if there is anything there, left intact,
but, after that, we meet ourselves coming in from the rain for a drink.

The palm blazes with the thinking of it
a pose that supposes it's holiness
what do we see, now that night has fallen?

Sunday, June 7, 2009

The Machine For Forgetting

Frayed laughing the mouth of sweet jesus torn
apart by loss and grief then
scooped up by the queen of arrangement
(she gets the job done.)
A month of hoping passes with
only paper to show for it-
an hour automatic spent in
this theatre of the inside is as a straightened bone:
thick with thanks but little else.

Wednesday, June 3, 2009


The dying heart, wrong uncertain
a child's immense last light
a head out the window,
the missed chance for rain
a face removed
A lonlier world
poor dog
asked of them, be done!
Old men are now drawn apart
beneath the veiled sun.