Wednesday, August 30, 2006

The Dimutive Mammal

Poor tiny love
hides among the ages.
Big cold sweeps

opaque and dark reach
from the narrow band
of sunset.

We guard the nest,
shelter our candle,
bind the particles

as we are rushed along,
fragments flying loose
and breaking away.

Tuesday, August 29, 2006


Best to unhope
if you run out of time
and the present looks peevish,

When your cheeks dry
and the red sunshine
drains from your face,

audit your wishes
under the cold light,
saving only the safest.

Monday, August 28, 2006


When the future shrinks
and hope is
simplified away,

starting to unhope,
living alone
unfound, closing down

in a crack of the rocks,
unoccupied minds
find the tiny doors of

infinitesimal rooms
where time is measured
in heartbeats.

Monday, August 21, 2006

Memoir That Won't Be Written

My son wants me
to write down all my memories
before it's too late he says.
To me the written life
is not worth reading,
let details die unremembered
like an unwilling prophet.
The tears flow in my eyes
when I remember
living places,
once so familiar I could
recall each step of my walk
but I will not be there again.

Sunday, August 20, 2006

Memory Music

The music we were hearing
during breakfast
sketched and wavered,
hesitating like
half light and
the edges of the world,

things that almost are,
reminding me but not telling,
uncertain but coming into view.

And because it is music,
as I sit at breakfast,
music knows how much I miss.
If I could center them,
there would be impossible beauties.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006


They call her
Madam President for Life
and we all serve
at her discretion.

She can take
the permanence from the rock
and re-make the night,
and she will.

A sharp wound from her
will quench the years
and she keeps her knives
buried among the buttercups.


Things I learned
in my private life:

People who are cute
are not necessarily weak.

Profound ideas can come
from foreheads buried deep under hairlines.

Those we expect to be
gentle can be hard.

Personality has nothing to do
with configuration of the eyebrow.

All sizes and shapes
get what they want first.

It is dangerous to
live in myth but hard to resist.

Saturday, August 12, 2006

World Wide WebThree AM

From the standpoint
of the sun,
there's always somebody
waking up.

Arranged in tiers
in a garden
like morning glories.

Thursday, August 10, 2006


Just earning a living;
I look at his hair, thin
but he owns it.
When I see how he tries to part it
my heart opens.

There is a rim of something moist
and the grease has
spread to his shirt.
I decide I can forgive him for that.

I suppose he will go home
sometime where it's dark and
solitary. He will
wash and run

his hand over his scalp and
put those precious pants
over a chair, sink onto some kind of bed
and close his eyes.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Child of Today


Real things
so large,
profound and
my toys are
so much smaller,
miniature and soft,
plastic and paper.

Real so heavy,
flesh imposing,
but where I usually live
is made of names,
passing words and ghosts,
not even bones.

Friday, August 04, 2006

A Kind of Female Golem

It is a waltz,
one of the hard-working
walzes that push bodies,
Bam ba Bam ba Bum da Bum,
but dancing is for sissies
and the waltz is nothing but a woman.

Man creates woman when writing waltzes;
and woman pushes his body
until man can't deny the sweat.
Bam ba Bam ba Bum da Bum.
The sissie word stays
in his knees but he can't hold it.

Civilization is the taming of men.
At the party the waltz
cows them, panty-waists them.
To waltz is to hold your head

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Lifetime Performance

Don't worry,
this thing is warranteed.
When I look at the assembly
of springs and gears
so tentative. Don't worry,

this will be renewed no matter
if it dissociates and even
when the problem can't be found,
someone strong will come, gently
ease me aside, earn my trust,
beat back mysteries, replace parts
and make it run again.

Thinking about repairs
draws the poetry right out of me.
sometimes my life
does just that,
leaving me safe but
eternally uncertain.