Tuesday, January 30


in this world of intricate
live the insects delicate
creepers crawling, speakers drawling
print him off a duplicate
and he'll stick it on a pole
stuff it deep inside the hole
gaping vaster, scraping faster
eating into his control

curves and lights and soft delights
still, this boy, he claims the right
photos faking at a world he thinks
he chews and tastes and bites

in a queer morass of memory
he wanders ever aimlessly
skin a'prickling, hearts a'pickling
locked in his infirmary
he's quaintly unaware
of the way we tear our hair
grasping nothing, raspy blushing
he goes on without a care

Friday, January 26

Aengus & Caer

He dreamt a swan upon the air,
Sweet chandelier of Heaven’s loft,
Into the crystal twilit blue
She purest white and feathery soft.
Though dark be long and day be short
In light-limned love he sought afar;
The clarion voice she left behind
In ripples touched the deepest star.
His hope he met one dusky eve
Near waters where she’d formed her bed.
Her eyes aflame with tortured light,
The beauty spoke, and this she said:
“Oh wanderer you cannot know
Your lovelorn journey is in vain,
For true as your intentions be
A curse was once upon me lain.
Eternally a bird I be;
No mortal ‘gainst it can prevail.
Abandon now your lost pursuit,
Relinquish this futile travail.”
But he, bright God, for so he was,
Recalled the fated reverie
That once had been his longing’s cause—
Resolved to knit their destinies.
As she of snowy plume took flight
A glittering veil consumed the one
Who stood upon the dewy bank.
Then burst a beacon, bright as sun.
From it arose an argent being
Resplendent in the dying day,
Who tore into the vault above,
Eclipsed the moon along its way.
No glance gave he the globe below;
Ambition’s end the gods divine.
Propelled by nothing less than love
Seraphic wings fiercely entwined.
Transcending the celestial spheres
The two-now-one enraptured all
Who for three days and for three nights
Were graced with their supernal call. 

Friday, September 29


Perfect prism compromised
Stranger, stable—rare archangel
Bits of bits unrecognized
Awkward, able—sweet archangel
Moppish, foppish growing, grown
Foretold, fabled—false archangel
Earned a smile all my own
Lovely, labeled—dark archangel.

Tuesday, September 5

Minute Men

Imagining supernal, limits laid on the eternal—
moves the minute man, his one through ten,
the fiendish things infernal.
Trace the silhouette of darkness; mark this
poem, it fails to harness
what the pearly permutations of elation
make so artless.
Now, precedence should show dissimulation is a no;
the antiquated fast inflates, the reverie expands, dilates;
remembered makes of memory
euphonic penitentiaries
and we remain the prisoners of
all that once was vagary:
felt funny, then, feels strange again,
this minute man, his one through ten. 

Thursday, August 17

So Long

longer, now, it’s longer
took a shower, made it stronger
hair in eyes and
teeth in toes and
arcs so lovely in your nose
now these and those just don’t belong
they’re crushing bones beneath this song
it’s got too long, now, got too long and
we just can’t see wrong for wrong
so here's the longest long so long
so long so long so long so long

Thursday, August 10

Something Brightened, Something Dimmed

Yellow skull, the palest eye
Pendulous in limpid sky
Hovers, playful, in the night
Tempts the heathens’ wyrd delight

Yellow skull in yellow air
Beacon to the maiden fair
Imploring on her ivory peak
For wanderers and what they seek

Yellow skull, the rotting face
Of dark decay and dreams misplaced
Awkward ever always, never
Leftovers of something clever

Yellow skull so sharp and hard
Many what your faces are
Placid paths so calmly limned
By something brightened, something dimmed 

Tuesday, June 20


Why rise this thing, inchoate mess,
in ragged, ribboned, breathlessness,
this fable dead before its read,
that has no claim to tenderness?
A season spent with languid days
through negligence and envied praise
becomes the song of all that’s wrong,
mines silver where once gold was laid.
Their pools of pearls, their opulence,
the keepers of my hope make dense.
In agony it bends its knees,
prostrates itself in blithe pretense.
No clouded morning waking dream
replaces what can only seem;
I seek in kind what you won’t find—
this hopeless and evasive gleam.