Four Poems
Power is
a page of a book or mathematics or
a spouse to scorn or a Christ
to crucify.
Merciful past tense,
go on rearranging.
An elephant is killing
a thousand year old tree
for the nurturance of a single leaf.
Every feather on the African blue tail,
every fin on the tarpon, a fingerprint.
Retail Therapy
“Scientists hypothesize easy women drive down the price of sex.”
measure her hemline
with a cultural yardstick allowing
just enough room for ad space
the market demands markdowns
but if that mocking bird don’t sing
whose papa’s gonna buy her
that diamond?
It’s a tough
economic climate change;
blame the sun coming on
too strong spreading the bloom
further and further until petals
halfheartedly explode.
Time to tighten the belt. Is it fifty?
Hell, seventy percent off. You take
her as a steal.
The Lady Macbeth Effect
What I touch
and what touches me
needs washing
if I say more than
that I’ll need to stick
the bar of soap
in my own mouth.
Lavender and
the sounds of
October cooling
the ground outside
my powder room
I save my tears
because there’s no
one here to watch
me cry.
Flotsam rising
from the bubbles
accumulating in the
corner of my lips
I want to worship
something other than
my rancid mind
but the iridescent
capturing of light
catches my mind’s
eye and I
busy myself.
The whole room
needs cleaning.
Try to stay sober
I have no spiritual maturity.
I know even the gods
have gods and a mirror
is more deception than
reflection. I’m a situation
addict watching
the provocative psychological
entrapment of a woman
who allows herself to dance
alone in a crowded room.
This is the rest of minutes.
Any woman, which are you.
Picking nail polish from
the cuticle. All we can do
is try to stay sober
and act like someone who
feels. If there’s some danger
in catching the eye
across the room someone
will pull me in whatever
direction they move my
arms. Start by shaking
hands. A body in motion
stays. When the devil makes
me sin, I’m happy to make him
happy again.