Previously-Published Poetry
Just a selection of some of my printed work.
Hands (for Olga Broumas)
Olga wrote about her lover,
(beached-up,
sticky, starfish hands.)
… I didn’t really want to know all that,
though I guess that she was brave
to have that bound and sold
to millions.
(And you and I? We’ll never grace the newsstands,
never appear in glossy still-life
you on a towel looking pensive,
I with the salt hair, the sand knees,
the shy wave.)
Well,
perhaps not entirely shy.
But certainly not so explicit, no,
tip your hat, baby.
Haiku 16 (The Devil)
He is a white dog
walking along a white shore
and leaving no tracks.
You Have Cut My Name On A Tree
a tree that could not think nor breathe nor bleed
a tree with broad green hands
and skin pulled tight like a drought
skin like sun on new clover
skin like milk and meat and bread
skin like the small sounds
late at night
that stir you from sleep for the necessary moment
to fall into something warm and green and bright
Our Paradox
I tell you I don’t understand how we
can rub sin against sin and make
clean, rub skin against skin and calm
fires, run away to find
our home, or break
rules while I become
rosy, incandescent, innocent, and you just smile
and say, “That’s love.”
