"The underground roads
Are, as the dead prefer them,
Always tortuous."

"When he looked the cave in the eye,
Hercules
Had a moment of doubt."

Leaning out over
The dreadful precipice,
One contemptuous tree."

Her crayola box lacks
all but two colors
-red and black-
mustn't go outside the borders

r ~ 8/4/14

You said the anger would come back
just as the love did.

I have a black look I do not
like. It is a mask I try on.
I migrate toward it and its frog
sits on my lips and defecates.
It is old. It is also a pauper.
I have tried to keep it on a diet.
I give it no unction.

There is a good look that I wear
like a blood clot. I have
sewn it over my left breast.
I have made a vocation of it.
Lust has taken plant in it
and I have placed you and your
child at its milk tip.

Oh the blackness is murderous
and the milk tip is brimming
and each machine is working
and I will kiss you when
I cut up one dozen new men
and you will die somewhat,
again and again.

a series of notes, prose-poems
stories, bits of play & dialog
Aphorisms, epigrams, essays

Poems? Sure