Category Archives: Poetry

The infant sees a point, a line, a plane, but must live years to wrap himself around the temporal dimension. Shaped a strange phenomenon, with neither form nor sound, our moments of existence are as blind as phalluses, as mute … Continue reading →

The boats like liquidambar leaves were moored within a harbor slick as puddle glass. No tempest cut their lines. No vandal scored his mischief, slicing ropes that held them fast. Instead their hemp by decades of disuse was fungus-eaten, decomposing, … Continue reading →

Six hundred thirty months of age has he, whom all the world deems 52 years old. I used to call it eccentricity – the way he misses things, or thinks it bold to be impulsive, wise to move with speed. … Continue reading →

He touched me, with his plaintive attitude, his passive grief about his wayward son, his collared shirt, his wide-waled pants, his mood responsive, his decision none. I heard him call his home, and there record a message on his answering … Continue reading →

The August fog envelops us at night so we are blanketed and see no stars, and even when the moon is full, her light appears a glow and hides her face. Like Mars and Venus indistinct and unaware, but inattention … Continue reading →

I watched a worker walk beneath the moon at 9 a.m., his form a slender shape against the sky. As if atop a dune he moved, within his hand a reel of tape, and took the measure of a ragged … Continue reading →

Do you remember office telephones that rang aloud so everybody heard? And typewriters with syncopated tones or printers leaving carbon with each word? Remember corporate noise? It’s with us still but changed in character. Today the sounds of officework are … Continue reading →