Pride be not deathfor as I’vestretched to reach out from thesebrambles to cut away the vinesabout my ankles to step out on thispromontory you swell

I play the part of an earthboundstone   you   the part of the moon in this silent   ceaseless   standoffAs a rock   an oversized pebble I’m kicked along some

Take the globe by her imaginedcorners & stretch her flatlike evening against the skyBlow your trumpets angelsto stir our souls& stir bodies that have died

No longer bent like weightedbranches or shrivelled like applesin the bottom of a bushel basketNo longer circling & recirclingin unsolvable mental labyrinths my parentshave left

I doubt my final creditsare quite ready to roll  though   so far   I’ve outlived John Donne’s span  & that of so many of the poetsI admire   I

I am a little world made cunninglywhose every element   spiralsdownmirroring the worldoutside where glistening surfaces fadelike a tarnishedcrownThe planet prophesiedwhen I wasn’t listeningthroughsidewalk cracksthrough the

Have you ever desireda carwash for the soulrushedright up to thoseretractable doors to driveright in let the gush & spraywash away mud-splatters& grease? You knew

In the heat of summer as afternoonwears on as octogenarians care fortheir flower gardens & sprinklers jet across expanses of lawn the waterlevel in the

Those who look to you are radiant Sometimes I make the mistake of beingtoo corporeal-minded forgetting we’re predominantly made of lightmissing how like the moon’s