Out amongst the branches The lovers are in bed He shuffles with sibilance Beneath the covers to lie on her Her bare legs spread into place His shoulders envelop her body The airborne bed rocking gently the stillness of dark In the quiet the suburb sleeps below their act, as Waves of street-lamps bend over […]

1. At 6 o’clock in a city tavern On Wednesday evening the autumnal air was frigid When will you light the open-fire I asked the attendant In June, he replied 2. It was $4 a bunch yesterday I say pointing at the $6 chard To the middle-aged shopkeeper I was 18 yesterday, she says. I […]

In which I would rather be wrapped Than this one: 8pm on a Saturday Sitting at my writing-corner Comfortable in a closet of organised mess Leather of the reading-chair cracked in places The cellphone sleeping A pen poised In it I get to think About the evening fog draped In folds from trees Leaves falling […]

Man, Five Points Square New York 1916. Paul STRAND  Exhaustion has its tale to tell Like the gaze beneath the dusty hat In the shadows, staring, unseeing, unknowing Sun slopes down the slum-houses upon a cheek The brown skin, curving mouth, tight jaw Showing up more years than are due — guileless light The afternoon […]

how poetry begins: a soft building fire in the deep interior * * fever-hot night yellow moon the car is rocking romance in summer — don’t bother us we have just been born * * language… shifting skies… by what has this world been burdened and for whom celebrated since her eyes opened * * […]

is it the right way does it look to be the right way that is what you think about driving in the city does it just feel to be the right way that is what you think about driving in the city it is not too late to turn back you know somebody slips into […]

it is a long time since we saw daybreak so no wonder we think it beautiful when, looking ahead, there it is suddenly: ribbons of gold and rouge spreading behind the hills, slowly unravelling, perfumed, gay, and a soft light touches your face and our memories of a deep, remote, unceasing river i love your […]

at this meditation lesson you pay what you want at the front desk and let the guru make you sit for hour upon unbroken hour with the one object: watch your breath my buttocks hurt my legs go to sleep frustration’s winning out “sir, where’s the peace?” * * the ducted heating coughs out stale […]

I am sitting here and the pale night-lamp, pretending to be day, spills over the desk. Leaning back on its paste-board support is a picture in a frame of Melissa and I, both in our stiff-collar, high school uniform, my hair pulled back in a pony-tail, hers in a short bob framing her face. Ironically […]

Poetry feels sometimes like an expiation And yet with words of the near-past I’d also been building debt Is this all meant to bring us closer to being an animal That is more right than man Never in embarrassment, always knowing what to do Or when I try here to create you Am I really […]