My Latest Effort:

Age

Our coarse intentionality
weakened when the fireworks
reflect on the resting home
windows, my green explosion
reflects our best efforts
at youth--bent over a plastic
cafeteria tray, eating cold
peas, wheeled out of their
rooms to reflect on your red
explosion. Every time I look up
the gunpowder gets in my eyes.

ER

Take your pick:

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David Bates' "Anhinga"

It's small, but I love it, and it's the only image of it I could find online. Try to enjoy what you can make of it.


ER

Photograph, December:

The shade of the pill-
Ow changes over months.
It begins relaxed,
Blue-grey, a cool hint
At blooming.

Her hands shake at the possibility
Of my body. She holds her apron
Like a shield but when I reach
Out I find a rope. I pull her
In and we are bound.

The first time we kiss she
Is a ghost and I am a gambler.
We dream about vacations.
I speak when there’s nothing
To be said.

Pillows inflame, puff out
A little and the sun sets
Her bed ablaze. I watch
But can’t speak. I grit
Down hard on this desire

But I don’t know how
To stifle it. To be in love and
Miserable is the same as
Being in love and joyous.
She teaches me the truth
By saying nothing.


ER

A "Birthday" Present:

I wish you satisfaction, but cannot
find a box big enough so it lays
all over my floor and sighs.
I wish you joy and
that's what this flapping
noise is about. Hundreds of
wings stir the air and will not
be gift-wrapped. I got you
poetry so sloppy and wet
so nubile it needs a nursemaid
and shackles.
I wish you wishes of all sizes--
pick them up while they are hot
and you are young
enough to waste them.
I wish you peace but don't know
how to leave you alone, tell me
how does a sailor leave the sea?
She doesn't: the depths so-far un-
touched but loved, its swells the biography
of her life, its whimseys keeps her afloat.

ER

2.

Our skin pressed
together makes raw
material for words.
You find graphite
between the sheets.
I examine it--
you do the accepting.

1.

I watch the light
travel down you
as though it asked
permission, and you
gracious, benevolent,
gave it, now a fugue
of slivers in your eyes.