On the day of breasts and small hips
the window pocked with bad rain,
rain coming on like a minister,
we coupled, so sane and insane.... more »
Like Oedipus I am losing my sight.
Like Judas I have done my wrong.
Their punishment is over;... more »
Jean, death comes close to us all,
flapping its awful wings at us
and the gluey wings crawl up our nose.... more »
I've been going right on, page by page,
since we last kissed, two long dolls in a cage,
two hunger-mongers throwing a myth in and out,... more »
cheese, please let me in!
Parker House rolls,... more »
Many a miner has gone
into the deep pit
to receive the dust of a kiss,
an ore-cell.... more »
Oh down at the tavern
the children are singing
around their round table
and around me still.... more »
We are America.
We are the coffin fillers.
We are the grocers of death.
We pack them in crates like cauliflowers.... more »
I knew you forever and you were always old,
soft white lady of my heart. Surely you would scold
me for sitting up late, reading your letters,... more »
All day we watched the gulls
striking the top of the sky
and riding the blown roller coaster.
Up there... more »
I live in my wooden legs and O
my green green hands.
to wish I had not run from you, Apollo,... more »
I am surprised to see
that the ocean is still going on.
Now I am going back
and I have ripped my hand... more »
Coon, why did you come to this dance
with a mask on? Why not the tin man
and his rainbow girl? Why not Racine,... more »
the same bad dream goes on.
Like some gigantic German toy
the house has been rebuilt... more »
The rain drums down like red ants,
each bouncing off my window.
The ants are in great pain
and they cry out as they hit... more »
of her arms, this was her sin:
where the wood berries bin
of forest was new and full,
she crept out by its tall... more »
In the dream
the swastika is neon
and flashes like a strobe light
into my eyes, all colors,... more »
The day of fire is coming, the thrush,
will fly ablaze like a little sky rocket,
the beetle will sink like a giant bulldozer,... more »
Today the circus poster
is scabbing off the concrete wall
and the children have forgotten... more »
Leaping, leaping, leaping,
down line by line,
growling at the cadavers,
filling the holy jugs with their piss,... more »
I dance in circles holding
the moth of the marriage,
thin, sticky, fluttering
its skirts, its webs.... more »
The family story tells, and it was told true,
of my great-grandfather who begat eight
genius children and bought twelve almost-new... more »
True. All too true. I have never been at home in
life. All my decay has taken place upon a child.
Henderson the Rain King, by Saul Bellow... more »
Your midriff sags toward your knees;
your breast lie down in air,
their nipples as uninvolved... more »
Almost yesterday, those gentle ladies stole
to their baths in Atlantic Cuty, for the lost... more »
Reasonable, reasonable, reasonable…we walked through
ten different homes, they always call them homes,... more »
is a kind of dying,
a kind of birth,
a votive candle.... more »
The correct death is written in.
I will fill the need.
My bow is stiff.
My bow is in readiness.... more »
Here, in front of the summer hotel
the beach waits like an altar.
We are lying on a cloth of sand
while the Atlantic noon stains... more »
Before it came inside
I had watched it from my kitchen window,
watched it swell like a new balloon,... more »
In my dream
I milked a cow,
the terrible udder
like a great rubber lily... more »
Who's she, that one in your arms?
She's the one I carried my bones to
and built a house that was just a cot... more »
I'm afraid of needles.
I'm tired of rubber sheets and tubes.
I'm tired of faces that I don't know... more »
I would like to bury
all the hating eyes
under the sand somewhere off
the North Atlantic and suffocate... more »
The car is heavy with children
tugged back from summer,
swept out of their laughing beach,
swept out while a persistent rumour... more »
as black as your eyelid,
poketricks of stars,
the yellow mouth,... more »
Anna who was mad,
I have a knife in my armpit.
When I stand on tiptoe I tap out messages.
Am I some sort of infection?
Did I make you go insane?
Did I make the sounds go sour?
Did I tell you to climb out the window?
Say not I did.
Speak Mary-words into our pillow.
Take me the gangling twelve-year-old
into your sunken lap.
Whisper like a buttercup.
Eat me. Eat me up like cream pudding.
Take me in.
Give me a report on the condition of my soul.
Give me a complete statement of my...
My mouth blooms like a cut.
I've been wronged all year, tedious
nights, nothing but rough elbows in them
and delicate boxes of Kleenex calling crybaby
crybaby, you fool!
Before today my body was useless.
Now it's tearing at its square corners.
It's tearing old Mary's garments off, knot by knot