This Poem Is Not For Lovers

By Saturday, February 3, 2007 0 Permalink 0

This Poem is Not for Lovers   this poem is not for lovers,   though it will harm not a one of them: young and older hearts: be boring!   a titanic insight, a morning storm thunderbolt that strikes you when you’re shaving   is the least of things love is. i see no reason for anything less   than carefully, patiently, yes, critically loving the vagaries unorthodoxly.   Minneapolis, 2007. ...

I Haven’t the Faintest; None

By Monday, January 8, 2007 0 , Permalink 0

I Haven’t the Faintest; None   i haven’t the faintest; none. the sky, the world, the pregnant girl; the smell of autumn and leaves ready for kicking on roadsides and in liturgies; rural church days (and every all days) say: ‘i and these my own are for you.’ and i know you: you’re the place i’ve been walking towards.   all the king’s men and the ...


By Thursday, March 10, 2005 0 , , Permalink 0

Shoulder   mis-,  de-,  ex-, un-poetry, all gone: Christ does not remember: why do you, remade and shining ad-, re-, in-, pro-soul?   comely believes nothing he cannot measure or weigh.   ‘how much does yr wife weigh?’ i asked, ‘and how does she measure?’   kisses, love make, fiery tongues, all gone: in nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti, how much does she weigh?   Hillsdale, 2005. Self-published in Clay Eyes.


By Saturday, January 22, 2005 0 Permalink 0

739 love is do not forget to laugh! smiles stack like road miles past, pastels and paintbrushes and love rushes, scars, are better than men’s photographs ten times ten their in degrees and screens.   ‘slur, are you In love?’ they would ask,  amiInlove. plotting points wherethere is nogrid. she is. she is no coordinates of parabola. dinner burnt: shirts unmending: overspending: smiles am i In love! listen ...

Vox Clamantis

By Saturday, October 9, 2004 0 , Permalink 0

Vox Clamantis …And Nicodemus said to Him, ‘How can these things be?’ —John 3   We sparkle, we chaff And in tones nonchalant but grim Confess the therapy of rosaries Adultery and gin. But, Oh, love, do not look me in the eye! Morning’s torso always turns, always redresses in disgrace. Lift the fig leaf to the face (we can’t go back the Eastern way): Conquest, rapture, ...