Three Poems



WHY BECAUSE the lost cat ate tiropita from my hand

why because I can see the other side of Lesvos from here

why because I saw Sappho in the rocks by the harbor saying plash plash Aphrodite

how could anyone not gorge always goddess and gorgeous

Sappho was looking great, profiled out to the east

why because of course the miraculous bees

They are surviving here they are

Surviving here



After C & I


Wide I wonder

how we plot our ungulates

coddling them through greening slumber

a sleep as liquid as bees striking, straining against the sun

all along planning to eat them animals as I do


and wonder do I unto wander

through each tightening hour

until the heaps and deeps of trash and flesh undo who

belted right up to the edge of the last lost horizon who

tears the rose into

the tone rose that grows

next to the corn rows

tastes like a town rose but grows

just like a braided-on-your-head rose

till sleep is a soft stable-boy comes to tend my mind




THE BOOK IS THE HOUSE where the bodies are buried

the book is the catacombs where the corpses enumerate

the book is the joy is the place were the copses unfold happy, fragrant, & shining

the book is the meat sliding inside the bear and the bear inside its blanketing fur

the book is the joy was lost on the horizon

as hours flooded in

the trees kissed across the distances, & the sun


in its pages the lake

therefore lung-ed as any animal I leaf

the wide pages flammable with life