cabaret homage
the empty bottle was an undertaker’s carcase
televised and coffin kissed by exaggerated correctness
beneath the steps to junkyards
filled with sepulchral mules in retreat
the pig head sagged in cabaret homage
to a loping city...
POINT LOBOS SEA POEM
FOR MATT’S 42nd BIRTHDAY
SAN FRANCISCO
Taking the 38 Geary Fort
Miley and getting off
at Point Lobos cliff
The Great Highway begins
I think of you within the stunning
play of light crisscrossing
my breath water
imparts...
THE DRUNK’S WIFE LEAVING THE CITY
In the immense silence
I am dissolving
I cannot keep the gauze
from my eyes
I take the charged sun
into my stomach
for anybody
the generations
and the generations
will have to do it
for themselves
I am...
My grandmother,
who could never be called lovable,
did teach me something useful –
a terse, Yiddish fashion appraisal:
“It suits you
like earrings
on a kangaroo.”
Two Reasons Why I Like Men
(1) The vulnerability of their legs
in...
Pregnant Sky
a.m. hours 9/23/89
at the cemetery
amid broken bottles
& fractured tombstones.
no one cuts the grass
& the Getty gasoline
sign spins circles
above our heads.
the dead rise up
out of their graves
& a great light
fills every...
