I got your message from I know not where
but there was trouble on my phone. I heard
just this: breakfast…tugboat…lemon…click,
followed by a static hiss. (I, too, am, at my best,
Inching Into Madness, His Old Wife Still Sees Certain Things With Perfect Clarity
He's dull as dribble; when he speaks,
he reeks; his hair is falling out
in clumps. He's swag-bellied and sway-
backed. His rig hangs upside
Her madness was mere notion then.
From behind our papier-mâché masks
we watched impassive as it grew.
Take It From Horace
Take it from Horace,
who long ago warned us
not to paint a dolphin in a forest,
nor a wild boar disporting on a wave.
A mouth like the gorge
led a wandering sky-blue