mumber 2


The Higher Things

Why not act indulgent and reckless for once?

An oarsman floats on a weightless scull.
Salt in the low marshes. Sunbathers smoke something strong.

one flower


There is a broad forgotten flower
in the ruins of our days, rising
immaculate from the frozen earth,
its purple heart waiting for a woman’s
name: Rose, Iris, Veronica,


Lo, the color of my mustache,
chestnut-shell with flecks of gold-leaf,
signaling to the world I take myself too
everythingly. Lo,



She was sixteen years old, returning home from a day's work at Alexander's, the department…

After the Flood

When the song said that even the sun sets on paradise
I think of you and my body breaks into mist—dear friend—
who once laughed and wept I remember sitting in the next room
hearing the low slow note of your exhale like an oboe’s mumble