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September 2010

August 2010

with some kids (for beth)

Sentences in them


were sentences 

singling and rising

    spots of words 

figuring circles

the way seabirds know

    how The Farther

expects us eventually

to extend an arc

    through a breath

to what must

be our sentence.

as it is for us

Drowning in debt and sarcasm

a violence done to many


Present as the miraculous


You don't have to read books

to read it in


Anyone can tell it

for sky for


Exact in its quickness


Present to power

like willfulness scarred 


Glorious as reason's

short scouring


Or nodding through

half a shelf


Certainty song at


closer to our own (for red)

This is a reflection of the times in which we live.

One thing. Startled by another. Was the other time.

But our multiplication fails us in Math as in crude French.

Surges. Urges. Gestures. Us toward a new continence.


Say you haven't toured Australia in a few years.

Say who's really the most prominent consumptive.

Say no to the liking too much of anything with an electrical cord.

Say you are a post-war mid-twentieth century suburb.


This reflection of the times. Then where are we.

The bugful trees haven't looked this good since fall.

Attention to lakes and fountains. Books tell us.

Here. Here is where we might set down. Hope.