May 31, 2010

like a fever dream

walking down to me.


May 30, 2010

Here I am, riding in your car,
the windows down,
windy city sharing its light with me in the dark night sky
my weakness, my heart an
atrophied muscle in my chest

I can cling to you like a child,
but you keep your eyes on the road
wind in your hair
this body is like ice and the cold night air

May 29, 2010

The sunlight breaks John’s face in


his flesh and bone—

And his bones like dead bodies,    sub-zero at the morgue,

their skin a waxy cold—

Madame Tussaud could not have done better.

Vapor, white plastic, shameless bits of skin and bone,

lie still on those                   hard       metal      tables


bide their time,       set for a feast of

flesh, bone , evisceration    so

the priest takes a swig from his courage and


Crisp victims, telltale like John’s face

Smoke curling from, Silk Cut    and caught between

his teeth.

May 28, 2010

like a prodigal son for your every occasion

lay my shoes on the mat and

each night I’ve returned to

stare at you so hungrily, wolf jaws and

sharp white teeth

May 27, 2010

like a jack-o-lantern,
on Halloween night when the boys come out
to throw the pumpkins into the road with
the old jack pieces from other houses.

and before I close my eyes I see him flicker and
die, in the wind, with a million other jack-o-lantern heads
on Halloween night.

My hands grip the thick fabric
of the red jersey sweater, fisted into it
very tight.

I don’t think that I’ll ever let go of you now.

May 26, 2010

Though she

Dances with buffalo,

Yellow shoes on her feet—

She is the North Star in my sky,


I am no believer.

May 25, 2010

I have spent the remainder of years

Tracing numbers and lines on the backs of old postcards with

ten cent dry stamps

May 24, 2010

Come, as we lie toegther here,


What lion has eaten our courage?

Return it to me!

May 23, 2010

pale children on the backs of the white war horses

when you whispered sweet nothings to

the void of my frostbitten heart—

little girls with diamonds in their hair

climbing slowly to the moon

May 22, 2010

Wang Wei wrote:

I see you off and I am all grief—

Who is it after all I am seeing off?

How many days have we been arm in arm?

And now one morning you shake out traveling clothes

I have a small house in the eastern hills

Would you mind cleaning up its wretched entrance?

Because I too shall resign soon and be off—

One cannot force oneself against one’s heart