Saturday, September 29, 2007

The Space Age: in celebration of the first launch of Sputnik

I thought I'd be the first
to collect newspaper articles
about the dawn of a new era.
I bought an ugly album,
none of them were pretty
but I never guessed that they
could last as long as they did.

I could only do it for a few days
then lost interest
and the history went on without me
and others took the credit.

Friday, September 28, 2007

Breast and Telephone

Everything is milk white
when I feel it poke against
the tender place. I do something
and the world comes in
through a hole in the field
sweet and rich.

When everything buzzes
with beeps and sirens
and the steam collects on the glass,
the sound breaks through
a hole in the field.

I pick it up and it is you,
sweet and rich
the code
of your intention
rushes into my mind
like milk.

Tuesday, September 18, 2007

Empathy for an Unborn Child

When I see
the image of the inside of her
I think it is an image of the inside of everyone.

I don't quite trust
what was once hidden
and is now revealed.

It will be soft
and only need
without means to take.

I think need like that
is the wildest
aspect of my own heart.

Monday, September 17, 2007

Seeing in Ultrasound



When I first sketched the
being in the ultrasound
I was afraid
and saw only
devils.

When I looked hard,
what I saw rearranged
itself into a lip pursed
traveller struggling to keep
its eyes closed.

What a long journey,
it must have taken.

Friday, September 14, 2007

The Sport

Suddenly my face
is on the street.
I recall that I thought
I could catch my body
as it hurtled. I thought
the old tricks would work
but the earth has strong arms
and I am a liquid-filled sack.

I think everyone will have
this come-uppance one day,
not being able to prevent collapse.
It doesn't really hurt.
Among all the scarey moments
this was not the worst.
I can rise
straighten my handlebars
pedal on.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

Changeling at Brunch

Our fellow citizens of Eastern
come after church on Sunday
for bacon, eggs and cushions,
all serious their faces
lined with the seriousness of
what they want; and the shining
instruments of their escape
wait for them on the edge
of the concrete ribbon.

They sit in rows
around the brunch buffet.

The server is like
a butterfly recently risen
from a chrysalis, face still
smooth and moist. But inside
metamorphizes a banker
and a merchant, a local ma and pa.
Her face contains the balding
bureaucrat, the inside sales consultant
putting in long days.

The Fight

The goal is
to make a thing
out of a man.
When you
box him out of consciousness
you end his living for a while.

You have taken away
his choices. And
as the thing
that holds a man
lays at your feet,
you celebrate a victory
by being free.

Laughing as I Remove My Coat

I could tell
that the day
wanted to be cold.
Days get stubborn
in September.
Mad at the persistent sun
and sulking, they
have troubles of their own.

Exit D'Jour

From the drawer,
Michael chooses a shirt.
Pulling it over his head
he climbs through and
in the blackness of the inside asks
"Why doesn't this end?"
Then he vanishes.

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

All I can Say about Stanley Plumly's Poem

These are not North American women are they?
They are women from the swarthy south. They are
hairy women who have the rhythm of the beast.

I only know those
who smile in conversation
as they dipple at grease stains on their sleeve
and open purses to pick out powder
and colored dye for their lips.

These are the remote women
who puzzle me. I'm too frightened
of your frank and energetic women
to even invent
a fantasy.

Sunday, September 02, 2007

Nice Day Dammit

I could tell that the day
wanted to be cold.
Days get stubborn
in September.
Mad at the persistent sun
and sulking, they
have troubles of their own.

I laugh as I
remove my coat.