A Little Green
I hoped to burst into leaf
(Having read it worked for her)
My toes sunk deep into brown carpet,
Arms branching toward the ceiling –
Category / Poetry
Twice Unlucky in Love
Twice unlucky in love, Grace
never said a word about the dazzling blue tumors
bubbling in her stomach.
Proud Ohio stock, she disbelieved in doctors.
No hospital, no morphine.
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,
The Thief
When I stepped out
into the purpled night air
even the rain smelled like you,
The Daily Wheel
I can’t deplane from the daily wheel,
grime glued to its ball bearings.
That wheel turns trapezoidally
and squawks louder than a thousand bats!
Discharge
When the war came,
it came to him in flashes,
abruptly, like something
convoluted
Molecules
She sounds like cobblestone when she sleeps
but wakes early, before the grass the burning
bushes or tiger lilies, only the roots of our
willow are awake at this hour breathing,
Dionysiou Areopagitou Street
ancient marble frames
wide cobblestone,
hills and trees
as if
a painting
Just Past Wisconsin Ave. on 4th St.
I want to be someplace else
like the restaurant my father
drove us to when I was twelve,
downtown with fish tanks
For what it’s worth
If you want to measure your salt, bake.
Bake until you develop a crush
on the green ceramic knife and
linger at the kiss of good chocolate