Thursday, December 27, 2007

...american health cares...

the clouds must part

today they must do

as you say with vehemence

this too I shall do

because we cannot take this

beating any longer

like the dripping water

torture or the time test

and sweaty fists clenched

with fear and anger

coffee and starvation

except for us

no one cares

even the ones

who are paid

so handsomely

to do so

Thursday, December 13, 2007

...singing in the snain...

singing along

to La Cucaracha

with new hope

I almost fishtale

off the bridge

thinking the snain

was just passing

through the grate

Friday, December 07, 2007 news kills the romantic in Seattle...

the new ones

were darker even though

you don't think so

dreary is what you called

them but they were rainy

this has to do with locale

the fact that you mentioned

turning on a tv

which I never thought

was an option for you

was your downfall

and the reason

for this aggressive stance

(welcome to our world)

all poems are political

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

Monday, December 03, 2007

...conjugations of conjunctivitis...

not the flight

but the battle

not in the hardest stone

nothing like this

and the bloodshot

worsened with withered hours

and the pins and needles

worked the cornea

(the tributary image

reappears in the once-white

of the eyes, creeping

and creek-like)

until the drops were

administered and I saw again

what you saw

when we got back

home and lit up

the office desk lamps

and wrote about

how irony blesses

us with coincidence

and illness seeps

through the thin thin

walls like the wind

(more ironic that chronic)

Sunday, December 02, 2007

...thousands of feet overhead...

the white lawn speckled

with dead brown leaves

and branches veining,

creeping into shapes

similar to tributaries

and rivers

from thousands of feet


we sit warm toasted

by the radiant heat

and the pulse of a square light

that singes the hairs

on both of our arms

telling us that we must

move around more

or we will miss

the little features

we used to watch

of each other like

little television episodes.

It snowed to white

and I still do not know

what the small

of your back tastes

like today.

There's no punch like

or catch phrase here.

This is just the age

of the docudrama.

Thursday, November 29, 2007


I thought clouds

were supposed to hold

rain up so that we

can get something done

like rake leaves

or make love

but I guess they

open up for a reason

which is required

of both

and that is sad

Monday, November 19, 2007


I cannot write

poetry anymore

unless it is snowing

and it is snowing

(or at least snaining)

and I have to go

to class so

I cannot write

poetry anymore

(until the snow

starts sticking)

Thursday, October 25, 2007

...keeps me warm...

after I leave

what do i have

that keeps me warm

but the image

of you lying in bed

with that soft smile

on your face

Saturday, October 20, 2007

Tuesday, October 09, 2007


six twenty seven

six forty six

out the door

and into the door

half asleep

half asleep

(guess then I'm asleep)

gas pedal dream

across the sludge

canal bridge

closed windows

mean nothing

when the vapors

seep in

(at this hour

I can't find a sub

to help me drive

this class home)

Saturday, October 06, 2007

...passed you by...

at only eleven bucks

I should have taken you

with me and read that first

poem again and again

because it was your last

and yet I left you

on the shelf

where one leaves

the books

before going

into the bathroom

(you were hard


and I want to slam

my finger into the car

door for not making

you my own

Saturday, September 22, 2007

...l'shanah tovah...

at the river's edge

I say I'm sorry

and think about

how things can only

get better this year

once I get rid of this

lint in my pocket

and this little shameful

thought that I can

make things better

Tuesday, September 18, 2007


(this is our helplessness)

and no depth

of mine can

match that

of yours

this is part of the same

system that has failed

us and you and her

this is

"par for the course"

a phrase known

better to doctors

than "can I help you?"

more used then

"I can help you."

and all we want is some help

to make things easier

for those who actually need it

Where are the skilled doctors

who actually want to treat

illness and disease?

When did this take

a backseat to golf

and boats and trophy wives?

Wasn't there an oath involved

somewhere along the line?

Through neglect

we have bred terror

and the fear is that

we will all end up this way

irreperabley damaged

while the ones who have

studied the ailments

have given up

on the ailing

Thursday, September 13, 2007

...roast beep...

smile again match

the sweetness of apple

and honey and

the year that is to come

and he is only three

(me only thirty)

but the joy is the same

he's gonna smile

like that forever

as long as he

keeps moving

Friday, September 07, 2007

...signs of the divine...

(these are signs:)

there are casualties and

injuries and upsets and

smashing and crushing

(Mistakes have been made:)

bombs and bullets and

blitzkreig and ballet and

wounded and wound

(Fighters have fought:)

boxer and bloodsport and

water and nurture and

nature and torture

(we've clashed here:)

testament versus testament versus

prayer versus prey versus

fan versus fanatic

(In the severity of each case
our cruel sense of import
tears at the very source
of the divine, what we are
as a whole.)

Friday, August 31, 2007

...scan-tron exam...

the microchip will be
eventually inserted just
below the skin

tomorrow's pain
will become a barcode
injected just below

the epidermal layer
into the veins
or deep tissue

in case of emergency
the signal wil be clear
and help appears

and the check
will be handled with a wand
and a long list

explaining why the exam
costs as much as a pill
that will require more tests

to seek more answers
that will require
more tests and pills

and nothing gets alleviated
or cured or even sustained
long enough to be sure

that the diagnosis
was as accurate
as the bill

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

...sweatshirt on the train...

she was some sort of test

I cannot discern between

want and need

but this is probably

part of the test

If I give her the long sleeve

and leave you in the cold

who will I be looking out for

me the guy on the spot

with the public display

of dupe or be duped

The answer was actually simple

you are the one

that I need to keep warm

because your hands

are always cold

and I need to keep

the rest of you warm

and hold your hands

if the warm blood doesn't

make its way that far

(called extremeties

this was extreme)

regardless of whether

it is July or January

the swearshirt stays

on your back


I promise

Friday, July 20, 2007

...porch sun...

the cities all mesh with themselves

this big red house is cool today

on the porch especially well lit today

the sun keeps asking questions

as if I knew the answers he was looking for

Oh, you know the answer to that

you are the sun and I am the spot

on the earth that you miss

when I go into the house

to sleep or den to feed

the parody of this is breakfast

cereal commercials or advertisments

from Country Life

but I am far from this luxury

far from Vergennes

far from the homes sitting

along the Champlain Islands

too far from the strawberry feild

outside Burlington

closer to the one in Central Park

and that hasn't a strawberry in it

The fears are quelled by the sun

today and the return to simple

becomes the truest aim

of sitting on the porch

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

...the wait...


is the tricky thing

when the air is thick with water

and the sun boils the water

before it can ground itself


the wait for them

is unbearable

never wanted a western

front to come quicker

and the package of moisture

needs to finally open

and cool us all down

Are clouds of afraid

of freon

Are storms weary

of being saviors

Here comes the sun


but it isn't alright

it'll destroy us all

until the rains begin

I have nothing

and cannot breath

Thursday, June 28, 2007

...sweet sweat...

I am sweating

you are sweating

the quiche is especially dill

the brownie you eat

you are sweating sweet

that is fitting for you

take a sip

berry soda chill

and sweating sweet

the body is still

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

...blown gasket...

I cannot count

the things I have lost

today on my hands

toes may cover it

the recent Harvard grad

in the waiting room

had just a few leaks

a few thousand miles

past due is an easy mistake

for a recent Harvard grad

for me however

on top of it like a tick

the greasy little men

all gave me the green light

and yet the smoke rose

and rose and resignated

some more and the prognosis

grew grim and grimey

what do you do

when you have less

than the balance requires

what do you do

when you can't get

to the job you need

to get the money

you need to get

to the job

the spine stiffens

the neck locks from the base

of the skull to the lower shoulder

blade is transparent

of something that has clearly

been wrong for a while now

and that the gasket

had already blown

Saturday, June 23, 2007

...two days later...

the sun is still

in it's perfection

like you now sitting

across the rays

becoming highlights

in your novel

or explicating passages

about a child from Sudan

and how our oil leaks

and front door repairs

are nothing meaningless

in light of all

that was once beautiful

that now is not

words are humbling

when they comfort

but burn in the sun

if left out too long

we have a front door

we have oil in our car

we have each blackberry in the yard

we have each other

we are ok for now

we are ok for now

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Saturday, June 16, 2007

...stereo Television...

the park central astroturf

and the rain on the apples

lightning in the north

and the song to wish the sun out

over the city

the voices sound off

and this is theirs

the imperfection is beauty

with you to turn on

blanketed in yellow

opening up to skin glow

the angle of the guitar note

this was generous

the marquee was lit

during the day

for a few to see

and I was not

there inside myself

rather nostaglic

of the year of birth

and that comfort

of the womb

the closeness

of the belly

to the heart

to the breast

and to the ageless

song you sing

Thursday, June 14, 2007

...over at last...

the complaint was this:

to describe where I live

my drive to work

all I had to do was tell

the person I was

talking to to watch

the show's intro

(ignoring the theme music)

see the Turnpike

see Pizzaland

see Satin Dollz

and now

in a tale's demise


I tell the guy

that's where I live

and it sucks

just as bad as that

stupid show did

Saturday, June 02, 2007

...tending to the farm...

burning is the sky

tired is the muscle

dirty are the ankles

broke is the reality

soil in the savior

tired are the limbs

feeble is the attempt

lonely as the basis

corruption at the roots

broke is the situation

tired are the eyes

tender is the rootball

sweat in the soil

policy in the temptation

few in the many

leaves of the last

roots from the garden

sun in the spring

tired is the till

shovels are arms

warped wooden legs

(here in the garden

poets are merely

trellises for the vines)

Tuesday, May 08, 2007

...papers aflame in the park, midday...

Quisiera un poco de sol


well that's quite a bit much

but thank you

for the breeze as well

as the burn

the ten times ten

heat index

and the thinnest layer

of protection

we have isn't enough

epidermal warming

warning the masses

this pool of skin

is crackled and the lining

rubbed raw

no deseo que mucha sol

Tuesday, April 24, 2007

...stupid poetry game...

Tables aren’t for this heroine.

Trees build themselves up.

Dangerous Bees?

No more heroes for table tennis

in Bowling Green.

I don't want to be part

of your...

(for Colin)

Monday, April 16, 2007

...outside of the classroom...

the poor poor children

of Virginia

are crying

as nightmares

of coming to class

naked as the day

we came into the world

go out just the same

covered in blood

and the end of innocence

is nobody's salvation

but the damned

and the disturbed.

That man is inherently evil

and animal, territorio

clinging to the last of a kind

has been preached

that man must learn

to be saved through truth

beauty music and knowledge

despite the ease of the error

the laziness of the terrorist

and their affinity to a God

this gunfight is too easy

a poor man's fist

an uzi suicide

a penalty shot

and the kids

will never raise

their hands

again the way

they used to

and the end

of the system

we once knew

will be the end

of all that we

called the process

of education

now that it has

been taken

outside of the classroom

Friday, April 13, 2007 season...


to York

to Jersey

to Hampshire



New Winter

in America

(the kids now have

Winter Intersession

in April)


to snowfall

on Easter.


to Global

Climate Shifting

Gears of American



to New Winter

in New Jersey


Wednesday, April 11, 2007

...shameless plug...

This is not a poem...but these are mine, sort of...check out my "erasures" at the Wave Poetry website. Try them yourselves. It's a shitload of fun! And, you can actually produce some great poems. My students are working on similar texts as well.


Tuesday, April 10, 2007 a shell...


and everynight

the turtle is not sure

whether he should come out

and explore for knowledge

or for food, merely for nourishment

of the mind, or body

(Do I apply for the job or for the degree?)

(Do I eat or do I write?)

(Do I sink or do I sink?)

(Do I shed or do I crust?(

(Hardshell or Paperback?)

tomorrow and

the next tomorrow

if the turtle isn't given

room to grow

he simply won't

and he becomes attached

to the feeder fish

(no longer my prey,

they finish my sentences

with symbiotic assonance)

in a shell

turtle or nut?

pencil or window?

fashion or fusion?

Can there be any

smaller being

than the one who can't

see that it's all a trap?

(in a shell in a shell in a shell

am I trapped in a shell?)

Thursday, March 22, 2007


meadow clever launch

pilots into definition

liquid still quarter

tubes riverdrum

stanzas swelter in

stride my stars

translucent scholars

corpses detonate

throwing dicey limestone

flicked grandstand flavor

meaty treaties fleeting

Friday, March 09, 2007

...a bus parked...

there is a bus

parked in my sinuses

and it shifts

forward and back

left and right

deviated septum

deviant disease

wanting to drill

a hole to let the passangers

out and liquidity

where's my neti pot?

where's my baby snot sucker?

where's the doctor in my network?

I don't live on the island

and the toxins

from the water


couldn't burn through the bus

(even in the "Kill").

Thursday, March 01, 2007

...shades of potato tycoons...

purple little chip

go away quick

cause I am hungry

and you are purple

and that means

you are organic

and you are organy

have a purple chip

in hopes that

the old yellow one

will wilt away

under Simplot's

uberflag megahill

green with chemy


thick like hair restoration

and just so astro-

turfy you big lug

nutty bastard

each a chip

and plant a tree

purple chip/green tea

oh forget this


Monday, February 26, 2007

...stuck in the shovel...

the last time we talked

it snowed

but this time

the garage door

wouldn't open

and I had to go about it

with a shovel

Victorian Grounds

(the snow blower

stayed warm inside

the stuck door's


worried about traction

they felt the slush

of the night's performance

dull but enough

to slow down

the cars and refuse

the drawbridge

the right

to close

because of the disabled

vehicle in

the right


Wednesday, February 14, 2007

...what it's...

it's finale snow

it's hammer time

it's white chocolate love

it's glacial and spatial

it's going to be gone

it's situational sleet

it's chord-o-roy time

it's galaxies of snow globes

it's turtle tank clean-up

it's delayed school openings

it's libraries closing

it's mom's new foot

it's mom's new foot

it's a tennis court in Dubai

it's you typing up your poems

it's true there is no flu

it's snow and it's new

it's lunch at the Thai/Italian place

it's a big black furry boot

it's tea time

it's Davis Cup reruns

it's all day all Poker

it's getting hot in here

it's frothing a bit in the south

it's cotton-mouth memory cards

it's a 30 Rock episode

it's "happee vallemtimes"

Monday, February 12, 2007

...your sleeping smile...

I love you

good night

you smile like

you do when

you walk

in your sleep

toward the garden

in the castleyard

you sleep with that

smile while I watch

and so want

to make the magic

tale an actual

realm I lose hope

when you lose

your sleeping smile

to the disturbance

of waking

...disappointemnt in the garden...

the poodle



to break

the stride

of the


the English

came in second


he picked

up the scent


his stumpy


the French

akin to nothing

but the namesake

didn't make

it close


as ghost


the imperfect



and piss-filled


the breeds



the leash


its butt

was bare

and cold

in the garden

during winter.

Sunday, February 11, 2007

...traditionally, an American problem...


spreads from body

to brain

by way of blood


to the head

the tragedy

is not Shakespearean

nor is it Grecian

it is all American

psychosis and addiction

blame and neglect

defeat at the hands

of the giant clown

his transfatty fry-guys

in three-pie(ce) suits

this not heredity

nor is it fate

it is negligance

at the hands

of the abuser

the ones who have left

her behind

those who have falsely

pledged allegiance

those who have

taken her too far

and left the impossible

task of regaining

solid footing

Friday, February 02, 2007

...emer-gen-C broad (casting system)...

it is incessant

at times

this ache in the inner ear

and the dog whistle

that will forever

take over the command

of all the puppies

in the golden country

for once in our lives

I wish the ringing

would just modify

or pitch bend

to add variety

to the song of the deaf

I am so sorry

we had to go this way

but this is what

we wanted and got

this is a test

this is just

a test

Monday, January 15, 2007 in the next life...

in fact

the postures were that

of a timid hound

a bit scared of the shadows

and the light that created

them how does it feel

to have to hear everything

so acutely as the invisible notes

smell the pies of houses miles away

see the bird in the camo

of the spring dogwood branches

feel the continental ridge

shifting before we shift

taste a grain of sugar

as it were a whole pop

it must be so intense

that one must need to sleep

all day long

Tuesday, January 02, 2007 bet...

If I would have bet

the balance of my education-

based financial debt

on the outcome of today's games

I'd be scott free

without a bill

or collector in wait

If I would have bet

my alma maters tonight

I would have finally

broke even

If I would have bet

for once

instead of playing it safe

we could get hitched

like the running back

and the cheerleader

and begin our easy life

with our fit as perfect

as theirs

If I would have bet

my life savings

I'd be up zero

but I'd be happy

I placed the bet.

(congrads Boise State and Let's Go Mountaineers!)