Summer  2005


trapped on the median

by waves of traffic a cloud

of seeds circling


caught in the lint trap

what’s left of three cigarettes

a new penny


in the laundry room

foul-mouthed young girls

a shell far from the sea


underneath the bridge

cobwebs swaying just above

the swift green water


that spring we spent

in the smoggy flatlands

here in a tube of glue


where the blue umbrella

sags hail growing clear

as it melts


white noise in the elevator

a drop of rain beaded

on my coat


five atomic pencils

your panties stuffed all

the way in my mouth


in the basement my

nose against your belly

a truck passes outside


a strange town

the waitress calls

me sweetie



lovemaking you sleep

I check the oil


vectors of

pressure converge

upon the single value


disquietude and

the exhausting abnegation

crow dilettantes


late morning the kettle

steams your panties in

a knot on the counter


she describes foxes

nursing a small cool

stone in my pocket


a sculpture made

of actions and ingested



the wind  blows your

smoke towards me

a fresh shave


in their pajamas

two girls chase down

their dog in the clover


flowing upwards

the pollen that settled

on the windshield


home for a

few minutes I change

my socks


reminiscent of

a skull your panties on

a stack of books


the little master

of artifice leaking through

your third eye


don’t worry

he’s invisible in most



in the June rain

a white spider picks its legs

up from the leaves


not sure how it got

there a pinecone in the sink

blue morning water


looking in the green

dark for turkeys we

find a tennis ball


panties in my laundry

I don’t know whose

they are either


a place where the wood

keeps breaking the nail

crow preening in the rain


draped across

the television something

one of the guests wore


crows in the hot

dusty air the sap crackles

in the pines


you hand me my

keys and they’re still

warm the odor of spiders


waking in my boots

my socks are missing a spoon

falls in the sink


Zodiac Love Secrets

only 99 cents asking about

the eggs the cashier wheezes


the places of

reflection become

more confined


patches on his

face unshaven the metal

trill of the meadowlark


your mother’s stealing

your panties the sparrow

returns for a few seeds


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