23 March 2010

Then we would be mortals
Without the spacious love
Of desire out of sense--
Yet this part caressed,
And that, innermost.
To fretless play in nature's tune
Was deathless, or seemed so.

21 March 2010

The still strands moved by subway light
And angled neck
As disturbed mercury run like a bolt
From brow to nape,
From point, contour.
A glance to block another's gaze,
Who'd gauge a depth by surface
And tell a gesture
Beyond the scope of ink.

17 March 2010


In the storm the swinging
Trees tune the wind
To that seashell space of emptiness moving,
Where out is inside
Gusting through marrows of sky
And bruised air.
The force mending vacuums
Undoes old roots and veins delicate
Stretch in the following calm.

12 March 2010

As trumpets the ashes
Shrewdly sound and keening
Grief's borrowed perception
Phantom-limbed, old
Apneas of love
Sensed thus scarred
By the diamond blue
Metal shavings gullet-lodge
Of death's finality.
Spread from my palm's arc,
Dust--this nothing has returned.

08 March 2010

The austere piety of March
Becomes its vestements,
New-moist with old matter--
Prayers once galed
Through bent tree now,
With whispers chill-piteous,
Hiss of winter's eternal soul.

02 March 2010

Love's portion has its hour
If hours be the measure.
Our pain is in pocket,
Love is tomorrow
In the garment behind the shop glass.
As the snow upon a field
Withdraws with clemency,
So your knots and tufts unfold
In self-love's sun,
And a second's time may coincide.