An Air
airs come rushing from the grave
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Poems
As of October 2011, I’d posted over three hundred poems on this site, including many sonnets and search poems, as well as numerous poems that didn’t make it into chapbooks such as Abendland and Morgenland. I then ceased posting poems here, choosing instead to distribute them via my poem of the week newsletter. Then I stopped doing that too. Every now and then I post a poem here … but not as often as I’d like.
Walt Whitman Service Area
i sing the throbbing pains of your great nation’s bad coffee hot plates keeping the entropy warm out along the turnpike your name is†dissected by the moon-like stares of motorists stupified by the concrete glare i sing the car electric…
Thomas Pynchon & America
You remain the least of their paranoid worries, smouldering up the Hudson flowing grey hair. They paid for tips once; now change is loose, vengeance. Cold uniformed stares outside exits and gas stations. Over platforms red numbers, an eye for…
Yield
the flow the scarper past rivers red with bombast my eradication plans did yield a smaller grain a compromise burst forth with sibillance! scattered rayguns portray the Jetsons at LAX fields of traffic yielding to the dollar scones with pearl…
Washington Sirens
I can hear Union Station pealing, taking its constitutional in the green mile mall. The siren has gout. Speculation rises to the roof of the Capitol. Liberty then falls, alas. The ambassador’s ambulance driver rides the whoopy-whoo for some arcane…
Super Power
Red/stop hands reflect on the sides of passing silver buses. Who can now discern what’s nuclear, what simply oil or pre- digital? Ladders, elongated hopes, quiet streets & busy boulevards. With disregard for the French. Speak slowly. Totally super is…
Pillion
Pale-faced, never in control: remember to cry; it’s a buzz. We live, for then we die – or did i hear that in some song? Pillion, side-saddle, tempt the verge: a highway’s inside sources repeat the same old symbols. Leather,…
Bridges Ice Before Highways
Love thaws before freezing over, setting twice as thick across this film of a wearied stare. Following the bridges back: a rusted green lantern points into the air, grasped by hands like the dollar bills that donít exist – not…
Pomes what I have wrote
Here in Washington DC it’s muggy and my credit’s running out so this is peppy: check out some of me poems online here at nthposition. They’re entitled “in heaven itís always raining”, “why do you cry run lola run” and…
