Book o’ Verse

roomward covering corners carrying photos of tadpoles large eyes and feathers and whatnot while painting the scene with shades of frog hopping feathers sentiment burp

wriggle of morning thought. Something to hold on to. To pull him out. Sharp. He bites– Hold on! Hold on! Tight jaw, reeling in, line stretching, water shake. There’s a bend and a swing. with the whole scene swirling past too fast then he’s flopped over and down onto the plankety board bottom of the … Read more

Subway ride through a newspaper, flutter express stop and cooked air at the sports section with the concrete pressed straight cold against your feet like there’s no shoe there at all. No shoe to separate the ligatures that spell out the times of the day, the subway times you’re zipping through. The business, life, nation, … Read more

A red-cabbed rig flying just above the spires of Golden Gate Bridge. What the hell — right? A truck, aloft? Sort of lovely though for the moment, looking around. There’s a nice stereo and tapes and a bed tucked in behind the driver’s seat. The problem’s his trajectory. He’d hoped he might line up with … Read more

dirty gray, piled high like handfuls of baby sheep stacked and teetering. the air sharp with cotton candy drift that leaps toward the understanding part. you can’t hold it back. a pillow he’s reaching for it now to prop up all those teetering stacks, to ease his way into a dream of sharp fluff.

Forget not the mud caked juice box, those traces of familiar sweetness locked in hannukah gelt coin coverings dented dirtward next to a plate or two of shaded eggplant parmigiana. There was a party here. There were frightened earthworms. Thunder. Gray light. And children being irresponsible.

been thinking about my great-grandfather’s beard. I can’t compete with that. Puffy-white sketched lawyer-still. Coffee, ironed tablecloths, small spoons. Not one drop swings loose. Cigars for all. Corona de Luxe smoke drifts over old Europe squares. Sons in perfect pose. Even the camera man had his act together.

driving home late telling my eyes it’s just about time to open wide, let in a few headlights reveal the back of my head. clang noises clanging back there still clanging away let the headlights shine on in.

it’s a matter of asking that tape recorder, are you gonna spool this? Do you want to take a sec? hold a sec? paste that moment across some plastic? Cuz I don’t wanna let you go, sec. I want to throw you in a drawer next to some passports and a picture someone drew of … Read more

His pals don’t need much, ya see. They wear snappy hats. Elbow each other at the sight of something, hey! Hey look at that snappy hat! All they want is a patch of dirt to trash. To take off their hats. To scrum. They’ve got cleats, ya see. Underneath them fancy pants. And cleats beget … Read more