Category Archives: poem

If There Were a Heaven, It Would Stink with Life

Blanchot wrote that Nietzsche was the first to teach us that, “if you begin to think, then you can hope for no rest.” [The Writing of the Disaster, p 123] And yet it’s a fact, lucidity cannot be maintained perpetually. … Continue reading

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Pierced to a Cry

In the darkness we imagine a brilliant articulation but we don’t yet know who speaks. Will it be us? Agent or reactant, we pause at the crease. Or are we the fold itself, hidden from ourselves that which is exposed … Continue reading

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  Masson saw skulls spilled in Champagne, tried to box the damage in canvas. In a new year pomegranates are lucky, they say. If one is offered with bowed head take it—take four, like Persephone. Antioxidant or IED is not … Continue reading

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The Age in Agency

The phrase “time bomb” is as course and indelicate as a fire-breathing dragon and shall make no headway here tho its head or ass is already in the door. Hit it with Webster. Hit it with Roget. Hit it with … Continue reading

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Poetry and Communication

From a time in my late teens when I couldn’t yet write poetry I’ve salvaged this fragment: Fathers: perennial movement tumescent adolescence caught by webs of clotheslines on a ladder of muscle and bone into the womb. Mothers: perfumed shadows … Continue reading

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Two Roads

after Robert Frost I don’t have to wait for the ages and ages hence. One will do, it’s been enough. Though the lights were yellow I thought were green when I told you I knew what awaited, I went, we … Continue reading

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The New Being

after Kenneth Patchen The New Being knows no address. He’s rejected you and he’s rejected me and he, moreover, may not be a he. Don’t ask, only wait for him to speak. In the meantime announce yourself above a mountain … Continue reading

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