August 19, 2014
One from January 2009.
The Irishman talks semiotics
and (doesn’t know but) metaphors
uninhibited to express in his
inability to express at all
the monolith of man bearing
each emperor on its faces
rolling down Sisyphus’ hill
in a steady avalanche
like New York.
August 15, 2014
Why ask me how you would compare?
Women are not like thumbprints or snowflakes.
You’re like the celestial bodies.
One is a red giant, another a white dwarf, but
when you’re burning in the halo there’s nothing
but you, her, and the great fire, alluring
you as if you were a moth against it.
Or one is a comet, cold and long, that collides with
such hellish power it shatters your every layer;
another is a meteor that sparkles
for an instant and plunges into the sea.
Or one is a black hole ending time and space;
another a dark and lonely exoplanet;
or one, she was a gentle moon
I could only compare to a solar system.
Yes, your legs are Mercury, and Neptune your head,
Mars is your waist, Jupiter and Saturn your breasts,
Uranus your neck, and when I touch the asteroids
I feel your spine shifting like the rock.
Pluto is your eye and all the Oort your mist of hair,
and in your Venus there’s a fire unlike any star, and
when your moon sets I wait for it to rise again.
Though many stars burn hot and bright I’ve
never called them home.
April 27, 2014
In distance there’s silence that doesn’t fade
but cuts out suddenly like a deaf man healed
when all the world floods in
and all the world floods in.
When I met my love there was no telling
whether we or the world had changed.
I left my rabbit half-eaten
and walked in the snow to the station.
March 14, 2014
Who is this Christ that through the fog
of coats beholds me of all men and says
will I give a dime to help buy a hot dog?
Although his voice asks me as a man
reduced to a dog begging scraps,
when his soul brushes mine he is god,
whose eyes search for only a friend
who will give him a kindness not from guilt
or high-minded notions of righteousness,
whose dry callused hands question why
my poverty is greater than his
and my need so much more important,
whose feet ask me where is your faith
passing without the simplest act of healing
and twelve words even a traitor could utter.