February 25, 2015 - Leave a Response

I want you
to get down on your knees
and kiss me

February 4, 2015 - 2 Responses

one day soon, friend
you will rise with spring grass
then with the birds

January 20, 2015 - Leave a Response

border2 (1)

January 13, 2015 - Leave a Response

wind-borne snowflakes
describe a thousand paths down
to the one last white

GQ

January 4, 2015 - Leave a Response

Idiot sculptor
at great cost you
have ripped
and cut a fleshly
mannequin to hang
fine suits upon.

Like a mystery
of the faith you inhabit
your idea of the self-
made man, inherited
from those patriot days
when Monticellos blossomed
in the wilderness.

After sunset
when the black fingers
of truth creep under
your door, you turn
your wife over
and make her take it
in the ass until
she’s good and sobbing.

Grinding her down, you
dream of a day
when she will be small
enough to drown
in the bathtub.

All you need
is your good right hand
and a land
on its knees, awaiting
the palsied shudder
of your seed.

December 17, 2014 - One Response

five days
beneath a heavy
bank of cloud
soon my lover
will drive away

Feral Dead in the Suburbs

December 7, 2014 - One Response

In the morning I passed a dead rabbit in the street.  It was stretched on its side close to the curb, unblemished, as if it were sleeping. I think it must almost have escaped.  In its jagged dash from lawn to lawn, the rabbit was clipped by the bumper of someone’s car, so that it slid to rest stunned, still in its sprinting posture, still wholesome but torn inside, its side subtly heaving until, at last, it lay still.  I couldn’t see the eyes.  So pristine was it that I thought for a moment about picking it up from the asphalt and carrying it the last little distance to the next patch of grass.  But the lawns were all well manicured, and surely the owner would have pushed the corpse back into the gutter where the feral dead belong.  Soon the sweeper will bear it away.

Just a few feet from earth, that road-killed rabbit

November 13, 2014 - 2 Responses

the sapling in quartz
between the railroad trestles
won’t survive winter

November 9, 2014 - One Response

a few seed pods
still hung up against
the cold white sky

October 28, 2014 - One Response

fallen leaves
the darkness between
flames

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