Poetry

May 22, 2018

Sex After Sixty

There’s this loud grunt when he comes. In different circumstances, it might bring rescue vehicles, but for now it’s pleasure. It just comes with a long, near heart-stopping strain, that’s all. It’s like when he suffered from that clogged bowel or the barrage of needles during gum surgery. It’s not his fault that temple-tightening times come to mind when he falls off his wife. It’s all […]
May 22, 2018

Snarl

Morris Mordes was meek talked with flowing motions a cross between a rabbi and a ballerina worked as a room maid in a Manhattan hotel commuting from the Bronx until he repudiated the USA by stepping on a plane to the Holy Land where he met Petra in an Arab drug store near a kibbutz where the members specialized in tolerance He would have disliked the […]
May 22, 2018

This is Not a Poem of the Articulate Rain

This is Not a Poem of the Articulate Rain Today the rain speaks in French, the French I failed to learn in high school. Also, the French I failed to learn in college. Also, the French I failed to speak in Paris. Also, the French I failed to speak in Lyons. Also, the French I almost spoke in Marseilles. The rain knows every language. Sometimes it […]
May 22, 2018

Sane Rd., New Jersey

Dark blacktop is lit again and again by headlights at night it’s easy to believe it’s the same piece over, over no good songs on the radio so you hum, tap your fingers against the wheel wheat fields for the hundred forty-seventh time you wonder what the hell you’re doing here
May 22, 2018

After the Fire

After the fire I heard your voice, low and Midwestern: the syllable bursts of erratic heat, hoarse cadence musical, familiar. Years in the Northwest turned my own words into monotonous rain. Your clumsy thrust ejects from my belly, illuminates my breath with manufactured warmth. Two Decembers ago, we hiked to Multnomah Falls summit, and I showed you the river below. Your face in the wind, pale […]
November 19, 2017

Carnival of the Animals

My family disintegrated with Beethoven in the background. We had Mozart in the morning, but in the twilight we could hear it coming: through the thin walls – “piece of shit,” an intricate, terribly beautiful symphony bled through to me. The lock on my door was broken. So I built a wall but it couldn’t protect me; I could hear the bottles’ booms, crashes. The high […]
November 19, 2017

Next to the Waves

Great is the moon The ocean its loyal servant creating and destroying in the same wave They sink ships and promise freedom to those lost in the expanse I fell onto my bed this morning and realized there isn’t a grain of sand in my room Let’s ride our bikes off into the sunset and swim to the moon’s edge Let’s float there and surrender ourselves […]
November 19, 2017

Man Falls in the Fast Lane

As of this Spring, the ice caps melt inside his glass in a fury of noes and yesses, the pleasure of petrichor usually killed by a necessary peppermint breeze. No one minds the aspirins sinking, accelerating with the days. He broke up his casualness, it’s more than a fling or a flight of fancy, loathing and embarrassment mixed until turning see-through. 5th floor, the angel suite […]