Two Poems

In the office park he spoke of the land.
To the loan officer, of the land.
At the temp agency, the land.

What I Really Mean

Deposit doesn’t mean cash. I mean the layer of ash
Distributed equally on both my palms.

Eclogue III: Catching the Ball Makes the Catcher Feel Good

…But if “catching
the ball makes
the catcher feel good,” what
makes any of this history?

Two Collage Ballads

I buy a few months. I try to behave.

Tomorrowman

Everyone will get one.

Tomorrow. They are tomorrow’s apples,
And they are sweet.

from Melancholy Occurrence

Drawn from coroner’s inquests and newspaper reports from England between the 1770 and 1920 — very much in the spirit of Charles Reznikoff, nothing invented.

A New Limerick, Accompanied by an Essay on the Limerick

The basement has always depressed us.

Three Poems

Injured bone. Blynken and Nod.
Visor your irises, handle with tongs.
We all think the Mandate of Heaven belongs
To him who gets-away-with.

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