1
glancing lost (imagine my an
-xiety) in the rows and columns
of plastic; man made and made man (in
thinking that I had misunderstood)
nape hair standing static attention a
voiding gazes of all save the
clock (or perhaps hadn’t capacity
to understand) alienation
and real amazement (the scent of your
touch and wanton glimmer of your hair)
writhing anticipation (the
meaning of life) oozed your envelop
-ing (nothing is all) presence and
melted into myself i
2
a poem about sex
with the head at the helm
of an excruciating ecstasy
where my knees dissolve into
the roiling pit of my stomach
i’ve got your meaning right here
and the world is liquid warmth
should your tongue again stray
so near to my ear i’ll tell any
lie you so long to hear
horses trample through the static
and your thigh makes me forget
that i smelled the coffee burning hours ago
3
wake up my love
it’s nine o’clock
and time to face
the blunted blue gray
of another dull day
the telephone knows
that i cannot say
what i’m thinking
for that would be
a breach of trust
or decorum
smokes are on the desk
some eggs are in the fridge
no it’s not much
but i do the best i can
i do what i can
4
a barefreckled shoulder
speaks volumes on the thin line
between why and because
by reason of all imagination
inamorata
the cadence of your dreams
sings no dirge for my wanting
and my plea no apostrophe
who understands syntax
when all propriety is contained
in the warm wrinkle of
your lips
a wisp of hair
bisects your left ear
and thanking all whowhatwhenwherehow
i revel in being
5
it’s going to take some getting used to,
sleeping with someone after doing it
alone for so long hands ungainly and
unfailingly out of place, i have to relearn
nestling, the spooning into knee nooks
curvature of the spine
(no, not scoleosis)
sleepwarmth…remembering that the bedclothes
are finite in space, spaceless i gravitate
towards the center and what was a face
(only a moment ago) is now a back (a
muffled grumble and it’s cold again
i must rethink the aroma of you
impinging my senses and imbibing
the taste in my bosom at four in the
morning as i peek over the pillow through
red rimmed sleep puffy eyes at the
peculiar little frown of contentment
i know that you could live without me
so near and yet lifetimes removed from
my thoughts, i celebrate every goddamned
holiday there is (and some that aren’t)
and sincerely thank whoever for all whatever
i have to get used to sleeping unalone
while clinging to familiar sensations
for this will not always be, and getting
used to that sinking empty feeling of
not you is going to be a sonofabitch.
6
Today being your birthday
I decided to rekindle my love for you
a token of something I cannot recall
a gesture, a touch, a lifetime
I looked beneath the bed, to see if it might
be hidden there beside the shoes, empty boxes
and magazines with trifold pages that
somehow always seem to get stuck together
Instead I found dustballs and lonely socks
mementos of times long forgotten still
I looked in the closets among the garments
hung loosely and haphazardly like affection
in the dark spaces where nothing could possibly survive,
behind and beneath the stove, in the dank sludge under the refrigerator
I even went so far as to look in the toilet
to see if the incessant gasping gurgling might be
that which, having once been, I sought
I flushed away, remembering what we had
grown another year lonelier and unwiser
In the face of all reason some ember defiantly glowers
discernable even through the cataract of living
though I cannot seem to locate it now
Spent and bewildered I’ve come to the conclusion
that the telephone is utterly useless