Poetry

Poetry |

“Myers-Briggs” & “Minivan Mafia”

“I took a personality test that claimed I was a passionate idealist, so I printed off the results and flossed my teeth with them because I refuse to be compartmentalized into eight different traits like deli meat tubs at a sandwich shop …”

Poetry |

“The reign of dinosaurs ended in spring”

“Whatever worldlings mutation made, / the eons hatched endings: immolation, ice. / Only our latest extinction arrived // from without, a sentence tied to a stone …”

Poetry |

“Wyoming” & “The Baker’s Wife”

“Each hold tools of the literate — / he the volumen, the scroll, she / the wax tablet and stylus. / But oh, how the experts go on …”

Poetry |

“Nancy With the Laughing Face”

“I can hear her sloshing in the bath. / The phone rings. Ma yells, ‘It’s your boyfriend.’ / She bursts out still wrapping herself in a towel.”

Poetry |

“Little Speech” & “Spring Summer Fall Winter”

“Undesirable you may have become, wept over / by no one, your green age passed by. / Don’t you remember the first chill / in the fires wasting August, / our last great season?”

Poetry |

“Martial Arts” & “Coming Back”

“At the start of every lesson the teacher / asks, What’s your best defense // in a dark alley? Upstairs our son swings / his legs, kicking neatly like a clock // at the quarter hour …”

Poetry |

“Dad and the Eye Exam” & “Milk Run”

“My chin rests in this little sling / and I let you come back from the dead. // Go ahead, sit by the magazine rack / as the optometrist taps our history // into the record …”

Poetry |

“Growing Up in the Mouth of the Wolf”

“Firearms enforce the wolf’s freedom. A boy/must learn to be/a wolf. //The wolf swallowed me. The men/of my childhood hated. They ate/with their eyes.”

Poetry |

“Dream Song” & “Born Again”

“From our team leader with secrets / I felt the graze of her gaze on my legs, / I grew lean, played guitar and drew portraits, / inhaled the scent of roses …”

Poetry |

“King Street”

“The noise / from the Greek / restaurant downstairs // subsides, leans / into the shoulder / for the walk home, // a little quiet, / a little drunk …”

Poetry |

“Year of the Snake”

“My long-ago Braille teacher / suspected me of peeking at the little / bumps on the page. I was flattered / And also insulted.”