New Poem: In Hindsight


In Hindsight

Where you go,
the language of never
plunges into dust.

Beneath the sun,
a blind man’s eye,
we gather up words.

I expect miracles,
but the river runs backwards –
the coyote inhales its long song.

Who walks like this
for so long the veins
dry up into forgotten wells?

The bones bleach beneath skin
and the bored moon yawns
a miserable sigh.

Who you are –
the thorns that I must walk through,
a mirage, a tiny truth.

You said it was a hawk
that passed so close to us
that day.

But I know the truth
of those hours
and what we had to find.

When decay lingers,
it is stark but honest.
A beak drops its stone.

My fingers are skinned
from digging down to you.
Now I stop.

What we saw that day –
different between us –
a vulture, a hawk.


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Winter poem – something new, borrowed and blue…

Los Angeles Boyfriend

The man blots his eyes with the sun – he hopes to capture another Lucy
To call from the door. I had hoped to be the chosen actress, but there are C cups
And champagne drinkers ahead of me, and the night dabbles its wand in the thick dusk.
Every man has his prize and the fat girls starve themselves for it.
Even the ugly guys weep their beautiful screenplays – attribute the higher arts
To virtues uncovered by dinosaur bones – a three hour disaster on boats with wine
And we landlocked look on, dreaming of them.

I have read your Mr. Ed resume. I have looked between lines for the cocaine you promised
And the dancing polka-dot bikinis. You were a liar before you arrived, and now you are perfectly
Suited, a dressed banana for signatures and benzo-shocked starlets.  You had a runner,
A desert dwelling bitch who couldn’t stand the noise. Vacuum and insomnia, you did her in.
Do you like anything? I have heard you monkey your lines in supermarket aisles,
Pretending your pretty goods can float like the traffic that pours aimlessly into here.

Here is the T-bird you didn’t expect to win, when your name pulled the asphalt dragsters
And we ate the deserts, the cold dog star flashing out need. And we glowed in the sex-light
Of too much wisdom.  Out there, I pulled you in. I made you king and kindred,
But we all learn the vengeance – how to float on the polluted red sea of metropolitan slaves.
Honey, you made your address shine and sparkle.
What you promised
Was a fool’s gold, and I, the fool to spin that wheel.


I called you Dog Star
I called you Orion’s Belt
Man of many nights
Seascape catchments, the shell of mother

I called you mammoth in frost
The broken ground
The Adam to Eve: god’s unforgiving eye
The first sound of spring

I called you Lucy, primate
Fist through glass
Football star and weeping girl
Desert unearthed by bulldozers

Man of names, I have given you
My spoils and riches
I have called you for 7 summers
7 winters

Still, you go on wandering

I have a name for you
Keeper but kept
A locket between my breasts
A Victorian analyst

Don’t you know the cruel words
Your name will be – the streets
And the garbage of families
The dog bone for fighting

You – lover – your love
Cannot keep you safe
See them clamoring
Their very red mouths and white skin

Calling you
Wanting to bring you in
With their warm beds and how they whisper
Le mien, le mien, man of mine

The Hospital

You will stop recognizing the words.
You will hear symphonies, your father’s voice.
You will see swallows dropping
between boards as you hide
in a barn of your memory.

Feel the weight of my hand.
Soon enough
this, too, will be gone.

And then you will be
a mouth needing only food,
a void nothing can fill.

I will try to get you to remember.
I will show you images
(if only there were images).
I will recite your devotion lines
as if they existed.
I will tell you how you loved
when the doors ached,
the pins trembled.
I will show you where we sat
on this mountain, looking out together,
when you were not ill,
when you were only a disease waiting.