Give meThe road for milesAnd nowhere I need beAnd I shall paint you in sunsetAlas
I cannot describe how thrilled I am to have a poem featured in Panoply, a literary zine based here in Florida. "Argyle Forest" is a poem about growing up on the suburban margins of Jacksonville. You can read it over at Panoply with my deep thanks.
Raincast mosaic on my hotel windowstreaks Fogo de Chao andblurs too-small memories where here (for example) I shook the man’s handtoo small to see pastthe shadow of work or there (I presume) the slash pines stoodtoo small to stand againstCheesecake Factory. In silence unawarethey were taken down,down across the river flowing. Drop a quarter in… Continue reading Town Center: A Draft
I asked the wind-beaten mountainwhat she would becomeEverything and nothing, she whisperedlike songIs all we’ll ever beall and not at all That night there was no mountainwhere the wind-beaten mother stoodonly darkness allall and not at all By her whisper-song unsettledI turned to grandfather in morning sunto ask who I would becomeI was you once,… Continue reading Sylva
Fan Lewis says he’ll take out the kneesof any old boy who comes at him, why,he’d hit ‘em with thatmillion-candle flashlightand down they’d go. Ain’t nobodygot the better of him yet,shit. Six beers at a time Fan drinkswhile the Saturday sun climbsSet ‘em up six in the Koozie cupssix cans down and a trip to… Continue reading Fan Lewis at the Royal
No award or esteem could evermatch for pleasurethe pure electric joy I sharewith my dog when wenotice each otherin the same room
Notes toward a personal essay about the murder of trade unionists in Colombia by soft drink bottlers and about how the political is the personal: “disfruta la magia” To believe a thing is made from people is to forgive. It’s the things that make the people here: the things made of people there. I was… Continue reading “disfruta la magia”
Sixteen pines mark my quarantine transectthis little quadrangle a world of worlds of being and becomingof platonic forms shapingfuture dream etudes where I spin in Fibonacci circles to see it alland always fail These sixteen pines a Myrmidon crewserving petulant songbirds dashingfrom light to shadow Their songs the hymns of Ithacathe hymns I have always… Continue reading Sixteen Pines