A Few Poems

These poems exist in various states of solidity and satisfaction.


I have tried for days to trap the words I want to say to you, to pin them down, quick bright wings under glass with terse and excellent labels — this is craftwork, this is forgetting — all the easier, then, to identify, to organize — short sharp jabs, a perfect library of flight.  This is my heart in letter shapes for you, oh take it, pin it.  The margins are gorgeous.

A homophonic translation of Henrick Nordbrandt’s “Efter en ond drøm” now titled “after one, a dram,”

the jigger unneeded, sad lack in our plan.
then the store, sorted greed
of cans and baling
wire, the kind heart echo
of dear ones eking a tillage.

but the market is stuck, bought and paid,
perhaps we held it rigidly, stood
on one leg.  stuck.  folded into seven
at once, mine sore behind
sad corrections.  A skein
of saccharine lips, red, sidles off.

The fire begins so crooked, a dreary engine
of elder copses,
dear ones have settled—oh, allure—bags of door mice,
variegated sins.

Mix hooves with my arms &
verve like a braggart.
I have ever desired
this sort of plastic pose,
the sad righting of a crop gone fast.

And a few more poems over at Former People: A Journal of Bangs and Whimpers.