I scan a cloud across the sky, once proud and bright and charged with fire, stringed by swift wings, the twilight lyre, only to fade before my eyes. Devolved, invisible, a wordless cry; where has it gone, bright light’s desire?Devolved, invisible, a soundless sigh; where has it gone, bright light’s desire? Too short the day,…

My aunt had gone to Paris for a holiday and I was left alone in London with her flat to promenade in Leicester Square. A drunkard sat and played a dead harmonica. The air was full of spring’s decay: the pond ice, half-submerged and somewhat reticent, uttered a groan for peace, a wish for winter…

That turn of cuff twisted a melancholy smile clashing gray clouds with laughing light. The pulsing sound of waves, laden with weed, whisked past bare feet with even toes and even nails. A mouth full of sand and fruit; rare strawberries. And kites diving higher than they could. And music organs, and monkey’s caps, with…

“Will you take me then, pluck me like a faded flower from a branch?” “Perhaps.” “Will you open up my head, cleave it as my father chops a sheep?” “It doesn’t matter.” “And what of my wife, Maria? Will she lay dried wreaths along this hill?” “Perhaps.” “Born; and then the midwife’s hands around me;…

Villanelle For Jan There is a tranquil eye inside the hurricane; I think (perhaps I’m wrong) that’s something you once said, somewhere, hidden, on the other side of pain. Last night, as I was walking to you in the rain, the western sky above the hills glowed blue and red. There is a tranquil eye…

A Sonnet I was walking in the Bronx the other day by Peter’s Golden Egg and Jumpin’ Jax; I was movin’ slow and beggin’ for a j when a man I knows strut from the railway tracks. Now me, babe, I ain’t never took surprised; I let this cat come walking down to me. But…

I remember the yellow blouse you wore that day. The world was still asleep, and the cutthroat trout sucked small dark flies into their mouths. When you told me of your plans, I felt as if I’d never fished with you before; as if I were a soldier from a foreign land who’d come to…

Cold air falls, slips down the earth, the Coriolis, butts against warm; each breath a sigh. Leaves fly, orange embers, sparks from the bonfire of the Fall. We have an extra hour to dream about our opposition. On the fulcrum of the year I come like cold air from the north, slip into you and…