Saturday, September 29, 2012


the consonance of rain that calms
a convulsive river                                like how
a warm hand settles shuddering grief

                                    a form of translation

the borrowed light of the moon
gives it its lost look
its one stone face
                                    eyeless             sober

                        fluttering over us tonight
helicopters shuttle between the collapsed flow
of the highway and the hospital

            their insipid music drowns the barking
of a red fox dying hidden in the cornfield

                                    in the periodic silences
I hear the plea weaken and cease.


it is raining and the soot
thickens where it does not flow

charred and clotted wings
dislocate from my blistered back

wingless           I am rooted

by daybreak I will be found
and then recognized

but should the rain lengthen the night
or if a cave open into another dream

something to come next as
the way back has been lost.

Thursday, September 13, 2012


we are confined by our bodies and if
the mystics are correct
                        that the body is in
                                    the soul

            then what

when I say I want to touch you I mean
I want to reach inside you to where you are
what you are                            I mean
I want to escape myself
                        to shudder and scream
the agony of the earth that we call gravity
shudder and scream like mothers
who have lost sons to war        to oceans
                                    to the mystery

                        to love even

I want to touch you     to reach inside myself

to touch that quivering human confined
            in this sorrowful animal body.