07 July 2016


In the museum of transcribed distances
In the wing of a moment's essential meter,
Is a star a Calder red metallic
In Hudson fields of green and blue;
Less small in such a spaciousness
In a blade of grass is a field of you.

18 June 2016


My august ancestral strands will all to one twine,
To one twine all,
It is a matter
Of time.
My grandfather strolled 
In Prague and stood to puff his cigar.
The sky was gray but for an intermittent column of light.
The boulevards met this horizon
And that, at this or another angle,
With somehow a cathedral coherence,
As a masterwork of single intent.
He was content
And took note of nothing beyond this his contentment.
This is who I was before I was born, looking
Idly at the sky.

14 June 2016


Love's limits want a spacious walk
To find a lost affection:
An unmarked turn, a trespass
Of a boundary.
Can a walk when the term
Be without a surface?
There: the setting sun
Tells this conic section it must be minus
The shadow of a me.

29 May 2016


In situ:
The cat.
Two hours have moved
One whisker or another 
On his grave face on the windowsill.
He did move an eye
Once to survey me,
And myself then too.