Category Archives: Poetry

Heather Astarte   Skipping up to the porch With her sly slink and swagger Heather Astarte the sex termagant Long etiolating light in the head Lit up like a star shell In the warmth of a fever Such eyes when … Continue reading →

Hopeless Even the golden daughter is hopeless Despite her combination of grace and speed Even the golden daughter even in shorts is hopeless Can this be what the world is looking for? Even the golden daughter even in shorts Even … Continue reading →

Mouths of Dead Horses   In the dead of winter We buried horses under the snow   I passed you with Dirt under my fingernails And cold blood on my coat – I thought you saw   Sometimes it gave … Continue reading →

Persephone   Be kind to her She is willing to grow complete Cultured in mourning She knows perfection is only too close One bloody perfect moment After which there is no other   Nimble Swept in far descent Wise Dear … Continue reading →

After Grace   The night they smoked marijuana together Caroline and Stephanie in Monaco at the shore Grim as goddesses standing in the surf On the horizon a shining spherical envelope Metallic indistinct then quickly close Blue to green to … Continue reading →

Black Light WithinAn illuminated fogAll hazy and slantedEverything clear butNothing clear cut HeatherHas a funny kind of heat onAt her wrists and fingers uncannyRadiance like a torch reflectionFine probing points of violet huedDim rippling flashes on the wallWhat kick has … Continue reading →

Very White   When the roof falls in it’s hard to stop Sudden gravity makes everything swing Like the knotted noose over a trap   Red washes on brick walls Lines that aren’t really lines I’m trying hard not to … Continue reading →

Smile (To Laura Riding)   I can never get your smile Because I can never understand How you can be as happy As that smile   Since I now know The Philosopher was right, That pain is the only positive, … Continue reading →

I burn your letter At the kitchen stove Starting with the corner The flames erase your signature Cauterizing even the word love Stretching up, the fire Finds substance in my fingers It consumes my hand, My wrist, my arm, my … Continue reading →

I used to get off the bus a stop early and walk across the Washington Avenue bridge over the Mississippi river every day when I was at the University of Minnesota. There’s a nice pedestrian level on top of the … Continue reading →