• A Brief Attachment

    I regard your affections, find your teeth have
    left me a bruise necklace. Those lipstick
    marks leech a trail, ear to ear, facsimile your... more »

  • A Windmill Makes A Statement

    You think I like to stand all day, all night,
    all any kind of light, to be subject only
    to wind? You are right. If seasons undo
    me, you are my season. And you are the light... more »

  • After the Last Fright

    I carved upon my desk unsayables.
    He drank until he vomited on himself.
    Eavesdropping, the others resisted sleep.... more »

  • Anathema

    I never recline in splendor,
    I never take repose. The eyes
    of an old woman are blue... more »

  • Flowers, Always

    Inexplicable, the sign outside a deli scrawled
    with FLOWERS
    and below that: ALWAYS.
    But there were no flowers. And I have never
    seen an Always. I would like to,... more »

  • Landscape Without You

    Roofers scrape the scaly lid
    of an auto shop beside the house
    where I live. Where I live
    shirtless men tear at the black... more »

  • Lying My Head Off

    Here's my head, in a dank corner of the yard.
    I lied it off and so off it rolled.
    It wasn't unbelieving that caused it
    to drop off my neck and loll down a slope.... more »

  • Muckraker

    As one in dowte, thys ys my ssayyng:
    Have I dysplesed yow in any thyng?
    —Thomas Wyatt
    That greasy letter into which my legs entered,... more »

  • On Parting

    Before I go let me thank the man who mugs you,
    taking your last paycheck, thank the boss who steals
    your tips, thank the women who may break you.... more »

  • Oracle

    Dead girls don't go the dying route to get known.
    You'll find us anonymous still, splayed in Buicks,
    carried swaying like calves, our dead hefts swung
    from ankles, wrists, hooked by hands and handed... more »

  • Plastic Cookie

    Like a teapot, I'm tipped to spill from my kettle snout
    some silver tears, these few drops that glow and drip

    their arrows down into the ground from off my eyes
    and nose. I was going to send back the plastic cookie... more »

  • Scenes From the Battle of Us

    You are like a war novel, entirely lacking
    female characters, except for an occasional
    letter that makes one of the men cry.... more »

  • The Pet

    I rode him through the village, smiling.
    He tossed his tasseled mane in distress.
    The villagers took his gesture as vanity,... more »

  • Why I Am Afraid of Turning the Page

    Spokes, spooks: your tinsel hair weaves the wheel
    that streams through my dreams of battle. Another
    apocalypse, and your weird blondeness cycling in
    and out of the march: down in a bunker, we hunker,... more »