And in this Brutal Passage
He came out of the gray huddle,
an avalanche of a man,
broken and vast, without forgiveness.
He knew spit and strike,
choke and an eternal bad morning,
Category / Poetry
Polamalu Fan Club
circle of sandwiches and half-smoked cigars–
Friday night dinner with the
Polamalu Fan Club. The playing cards are all
Worn on the edges, and the
Flour Sack Towels
I wasn’t born in Brooklyn,
or Boston, or San Francisco, or
somewhere equally as interesting
with its well-storied, cobblestone
streets and brownstones. I was
The History of Fog
When his mirror broke, he replaced it
with a book: ‘The History of Fog’
and stood in the cold March surf
of his imagination, hoping to drown
from the ankles up. Years earlier
Continue reading… "The History of Fog"Plow Horse
A steady giant, dappled
graying. Turning grass
into narrow furrows. Boy
leaning with all his weight
works his father’s fields.
Inheritance
Sometimes you sit on a patch
of deadening grass
overlooking the river
and wonder
what it would feel like
Career Change
The air is gamy and thick.
My skin slick blisters
with sweat. Mosquitoes
drone in a ditch. Dragons
fly above a murky Mekong,
Stride
At one point in the gallop
All four feet are off the ground
And the horse is for the moment
Airborne the way an angel
Size 8
I will know I have lived a good life
when everything I own
at the time of my death
can fit into a shoebox
you can slip under the bed
Arapahoe Pass
Up the dust and indian paint brush afternoon
the sun rolled like a stone
between my fingertips.
Even with the columbines
and valleys sprouted high green,