Is it dusk already? The doves
on the electric pole must have gone home.
There is a movement
in the rushes and waterweeds. And you
A few days before she leaves, she teaches me
a new word. Petrichor. And when I forget
No sooner do you touch the trophy
than the brightness dims.
And the day arrives
(ill-omened or tokening relief?)
when you attend a feast
You turn the corner
and no lascivious gaze
envelops you from breast to thigh.
The outizeiro tree beside the wall
has only grown a bit.
Death By Water
The first time
no one saw the danger.
heaven is near
I spent a few hours last night
It was a sperm whale in the center
of the piazza being hauled up by a boy
Before the yoga class begins,
I greet the students at the door.
She preferred to unroll her mat
rather than unrolling her tongue while on a couch
Discouraged by her nine-to-five in class she hopes to bud.
Padmasana: that which is born out of the muck and mud.
The instructor tells me to
“lean into the discomfort.”
Ardha chandrasana has been a mystery,
a penumbra. I enter the
pose with radiant strength, my standing leg lean and
I climbed it once, jumped up to a broken limb,
Hauled myself up and climbed high enough
We say they pass away as if
Clouds scudded over distant hills
And disappeared beyond the trees,
Two poets are having dinner
at the end of a long, tedious marriage.
Crash landing into a rice paddy,
through flames our Buddhist neighbor
pulls his wife from the plane.
The knotholes hear our confession.
He lost his chance in Chang-an,
his great height above six feet
the child is not
the greatest imaginer,
days of dubious glory,
the world crowning
words never reach
where beyond words
will we find ourselves,
yet words apart,
Dark steering of love along the curve
Mr. Cassim ran an auto repair shop.
He had no neck. He looked like a turtle.
The grass was high
between the graves.
Hello Vincey! What is up with these days?
Even when young, irregularities
in the wallpaper fascinated him,
People hear about my daily sonnet
and say, What discipline! but when I try
to direct it in a particular
is the sentence I wrote when taking notes
in preparation for writing novels
Nut clusters, caramels, jujubes,
and icing squeezed from pastry tubes
The solstice comes at 2 AM. Clouds cloak
starlight so well the owls can barely see;
Tree’s lean is forty-five degrees, as though
it worships slant more than the bright noon sun,
He finds geometry in woods so easily:
A narrow street in Ghent, Belgium. Dark blue;
E. B. by R. T. Smith
Emily Brontë, passion’s candle
but inclined to excess of brevity –
Throwing horseshoes alone, I ponder local history:
Now the thinking is to omit the jug
head procedure, work the surface as fact
Endure by Phil Sultz
Love exchanged with prickly care intended to suffice
A whole string of good yantefs, bravissimos,
and skol to seal the deal. I'm trying to get away
Hands by Phil Sultz
His roofer hands are like
his fathers, over-sized for
Benny Hill said never to assume,
Never, never, never to assume
When last I visited Alfred and his wife
We spent the evening talking about his art.
I like to feed my nightmares haythorn straw
I am sitting in my recliner, staring,
staring around at my room.
The serpent was a liar. Eve swallowed it,
Core and all, every jot and tittle.
The world is too much with us. Sooner or later
We have to let it go, and when we do
she conceived an enigma
she opened her palate with a slash
Enigma anticipates its existence and its deciphering
it comes before the sphinx itself and the solver of the riddle
The sphinx begins its oracles
will come with its indifference.
A cloud of sand
A cloud of sand
in secret rises from the sea