Or, on rare inspired days, the life of soul and then body. And sometimes, both suffer together, like a man with a bad foot limping through the airport, late…

  And a car turns down a street for the final time, its service puttering to an end. A man sits on his bed, puts on his shoes for—what will…

  The partial veil of the mushroom tears,   reveals its   stem joined with the gilled cap’s frail underside.   Flecked with primordia,   the damp soil is woven…

  My late life, father of my delights, you vanished without explanation or was it my fate of which I had been patron and author until parsimonious death cut the…

  Your morning soon Your morning song London morning Is dawning New York night Has fallen And when you are waking I’ll be dreaming Of a woman waking In a…

  I asked, and the persimmon said, bitter.   I asked, and the bucket said, cast into darkness and rise filled.   I asked, and the dipper said, a dry…

  Hid below the rooflines’ ridge, the sun had raised a sort of alpenglow along the brick facades across the square.   Eyes down, reading, I was unaware, until the…

  I still find the matches holding her place in Gay’s Fables, or Hobbes.  The spines have suffered. Those days, she worked at a desk on the landing, slept on…

  Shooting was needed to bring the bird close to hand, but the first things to alter after death and before the specimen’s arranged, paints prepared, are the eyes that…

  Not his wrist, barcode-wreathed, but the back of his palm he parodied--a tarmac, where a cannula lands like a jet-let. Flight-- whatever that meant–-meant catheter- bound. His guttural coughs…

  I’ve worked enough winters under this black and white photo of branches and sky on a canvas wide as my stretched out arms. So I lift it from the…

  I saw a ground squirrel with a long naked tail in the wilderness behind the Stop & Shop where the brook rushes into the vortex of an abandoned dryer.…