Yardsale The sherpa tuque I made myself The year after my daughter was born. The sunglasses, genuine rose crystal, never fit right. I got them as an after Thought To protect my vision. The skis were new Barely used. Fragments of me On display over a crisp white sheet Of snow. It’s unlikely But perhaps […]
“I’ve already grown a goiter from this torture,hunched up here like a cat in Lombardy(or anywhere else where the stagnant water’s poison).My stomach’s squashed under my chin, my beard’spointing at heaven, my brain’s crushed in a casket,my breast twists like a harpy’s. My brush,above me all the time, dribbles paintso my face makes a fine
Michelangelo’s Poem about the Sistine Chapel Read More »
The Lovers Both bodies are mature Glittering in their stars Survivors of a thousand explosive dances Yet All models show Despite the silent infinity of space Entanglement is inevitable The rough gravitations will circle first Fingertips tease til Sparkling arms lock. They will dance Enchained. At their hearts, black holes One will consume the other.
The Lovers – A Poem Read More »