Monday, May 23, 2016


he wants to talk seriously
of outer space, carry
free will
and lunar axes
like shoulder-weight angels

i am wry and restless,
drive the baby's toy car
up his fidgeting leg

my gaze narrowed
to the


Monday, May 2, 2016

Speaking Tongues

the little moan fills my head -
continuous hornet-rasp, 
the off-kilter whine 
of wires lost underground

you can read anything 
into a cloud-darkened sky;
omen is a pretty word

this growl, low and tight
as a bone caught in the throat,
lays flat 
               an empty staircase

but simmers every wall 
in the house with its pungency