Laughter Followed Closely

March 25, 2012

Someone kicked


a big bucket of


spilling it

all over

the kitchen


Everyone came


to see the slippery


Saucers sliding sideways;

Dishes dropped down;

Feet flying straight out

from where we supposed

they were planted –




And there

at the center

of everything

was me,


into a

dizzy disaster.


We sure made

a proper


of things.

Thanks to Nance for the photo. 


March 18, 2012

With an



She flipped on

the switch

of love,

Leaving my coffee


running  cold

as the tips of my fingers

Lit up like


in the winter sky –

Aurora Borealis

Over the curve

Of her slip,

Her hips,

Her layered lips –

licking up

the oxygen,

and gasping

for breath.


flames of sweat


like hot wax

off the burnt side

of a

tilted moon.

Thanks to Nance for the image.


March 10, 2012

The furious drone

of night

consumes even the

least of these

we regard as holy;

Blackness, blackness,

and then

a snippet of glow –

This, the never-ending

sense of divine

dreary days sought forth

with eyes drawn down

to earth, land

seeking space and sky.

Bring us to the wonderment

to knowledge, the firmament

unites, disperses

while one hand

draws  freely.

Look up,

oh ye

of little faith.

Thanks to nance for the inspiring image.

These Gorgeous Things

February 27, 2012


straight out of

the canvas,

These gorgeous things


taking me


quivering, exploding

in rapid-fire beauty,

I have no defense –

densely tilting,

relentlessy sloping


I am dizzy

from the vibrations

of color,

and swoon

with sickness.


You must hold

me down

Lest I


it whole.

I wrote this into my cell phone notes while visiting the Van Gogh Up Close exhibit at the Philadelphia Museum of Art.


February 24, 2012

I am

a nervous


from the other

side of town;

The king

of collapse,

piled up

in pieces.

Go ahead

and stare

me down.


February 9, 2012

Sky’s on fire

this morning

looks as if

the whole earth

might burn up

in a day.


That, or else

we’ll die

from too much



January 30, 2012

These thin lips

give me away –

a flimsy scribble

guarding against all

I was never

going to say.

The good inentions


somewhere just beneath

the tongue.

An indefinable langour,

lost and lumpy,

dissipates into nothing,

the way steam escapes

from your breath

into the cold

winter air.

Grace moves slowly

round the room

Like a foggy mist

or the scent of your lover’s perfume,

Stopping now and then

to fix your collar

Before you ever notice.


Grace moves slowly

Round the room

Like a lazy parade

on a long horizon

forgetting all about the time

lingering to observe

the panoramic splendor

of sunlit slants on the floor.


Grace moves slowly

Stopping in places

It shouldn’t

Nor would you expect  –

Hovering over broken shards,

Catching the light’s reflection,

Defying the laws of physics

In the gutter’s shallow flow


Grace moves slowly.

She is oblivious

to your impatience

and your fallow objections,

All along admiring

the bright, white

expansive opportunity

of emptiness


So go ahead, and blow out your breath.

Exhale into nothing,

and rid yourself from

the tepid debris.

That cloud

was lifted

Long ago.

Photo image thanks to Nance. (Thanks, nance.)


December 29, 2011

Your full moon haunts me

with its circular reasoning

and maddening gradual ascents

It just sits there, shining,

While we run around like maniacs

In the vague shadows of your light

Blind Retreat

October 12, 2011

Wilting prose

Graced the facade

of fading grey headstones,

Marking rows of memory

And a little misery.

I make my way

down neural pathways,

But the cane is just a prop, a sturdy assist.

The tapping sound reminds me

of what I can not see.

Whispers of

grandeur echo loudly,

without a sound – only slightly better

than what we had



The Night

shakes its head

And goes

back to