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IF THE STARS ARE LIGHTS AND NOT SUNS
No one has ever been warmed by a star. Can science say who we are? The imperfection of a dying breath is making noises over our talk of death. We were in the tent for hours surrounded by nothing but...
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HARRIET, EZRA, AND POETRY MAGAZINE
Dashing revolutionaries and sowers of chaos at Pound’s house in Paris, 1923: Joyce, Pound, Quinn, Ford. I have a theory (and I never hear anyone, not even the “right-wing” talk about this). The...
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IN POETRY MAGAZINE
When Babe Ruth was hitting home runs, Hart Crane was publishing poems no one understood. Everyone knows what a home run is. I’m trying to figure out if this is good. If you danced around the bases...
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SAD LITTLE POEM THAT ENDS
Sad little poem that ends,the novelist is running out of friendsuniquely pleasing—conversations are distant or short.When did modernity become a medieval fort?There is little we have, or dare,occupied...
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THE SABOTEUR, OR THE KING GRINS IN THE RUINS
To get attention, to make your mark,do it publicly where you will be graded.Or do it in the dark.Compared to God, everyone’s a saboteur.Who boasts they give, or they create?You are a borrower. You...
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IT WASN’T NOTHING
It wasn’t nothing. The A flat. The simple phone call. (We agreed, just like that.)The sale on dark chocolate. The seedy suburbs.Refuse curled around brown grass. Thingswe hate, but which are useful....
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CERTAIN
Those who lack faith are certain faith is not the way. It is not just certainty which makes them what they are— the means they take to be certain is profound— even as they become older and slightly...
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THE BLANK PAGE
The blank page of the poet, the painter’s blank canvas, is by every person known: it’s when nothing happens in your life, it’s when you find yourself alone. But life is calm that more life can happen....
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THE TORTURE
Masters of love will choose: they are tortured by loveor they torture—love is the torturing game.Torturing is close to love, but isn’t quite the same.Young and beautiful, the torturers are in...
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LITERATURE IS RUINED BY PEOPLE
Literature is ruined by peoplethe way sport is ruined by the referee.See what they've ruined. Have you tried to read that poetry?The contract, the prize, the published book.I'm serious. Don't laugh....
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WHY I CANNOT BE A LOCAL AUTHOR
By their vanity they are all overthrown. Nothing makes you feel old like being in a room full of old people, a 19th century room full of white hair and books. Clever women, a little too young for you,...
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I MISSED THE PLEASURE
I missed the pleasure of falling asleep.What I longed for, occurred.Unconsciousness made its leapinto memory's restorative deepwhen I wasn't looking.My mind embraced the deep shade.The horses of...
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THIS FRAGRANT FLOWER
This fragrant flower has no power to release its fragrance except in this dark hour when the world is still. Pornography sitting on your window sill. Fragrances, like jealousies, are enough. Not the...
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THE WAY I AM STUPID
The way I am stupid defies all description. I wrote an entire rock album making fun of someone’s name. Music made me stupid (never mind Strat-O-Matic and the stupid aspect of every game) when I...
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WE ARE LIKE THIS
We are like this because the cat was out and we are happy he is back. We want to be as comfortable and transparent as our poetry. Poetry is how we communicate indirectly and that is finally how...
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JOSEPH OBVIOUS, SARA SUBTLETY
Obvious was the poet. He got shit-faced in his own poetry. He was madly in love with Sara Subtlety. When they were dating, he would say, “There’s the moon!” (This was during the day). “Look, it’s...
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THIS ISN’T LISTENING
This isn't listening. No, it really isn't. And the poetwon't hear anything,Joseph Obvious and the poem being so close.You might hear in this poemguilt expressed that this poem isn't listening,but it...
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SARA SUBTLETY IS HOPEFUL
Sara Subtlety is hopefulshe will be beautiful for a few more years.She has perfected a health routine which quiets most of her fears."A year is a long time," Joseph, says, with great certainty.He has...
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THE LIFE OF JOSEPH OBVIOUS
The puzzle is unavoidable.She (waist and breast) is beautiful to breed, to breed.Attracting males by her shape,covering her, excited as a school boy by that need---but schools can't figure out this...
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HOW DID EVERYTHING SUCCEED IN MY POEM?
"How did everything succeed in my poem?"Joseph Obvious will ask those questionswhich make Sara Subtlety laugh.She is transported to problems which don't matter.She has never separated life from...
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