Now It’s Used for Yardwork
I press out wrinkles with giddy pleasure
in boxers: fold, tuck, crease out
every imperfection with rhythmic intensity.
The reordered threads rise up on unmade sheets.
I attend to each arm of each shirt, feeling...
Off the Wagon Rag
Let me sing the shimmying
banjo on the Red
Wine Street corner;
pullin’ in ears
like soup cans
pipin’ hot gossip
through thin strings;
hear that boys?
ain’t nothing but
some trombone tones
in the sewer stank
Good Clean Fun
The sweet fried dough dusting
from our mouths to our toes, hairy-
armed signal for the ring toss beckoning
me to win you a bear from the
black box of prizes sitting unopened
next to the Strawberry Cups,
our rubber souls...
Memory Lane (Sittin’ in the Car)
The windshield is covered in ink stains of snow; rolling tentacles of cloud and condensation invisible overhead. The son finds a new york state of mind. The dad swears; the radio swears. The dad swears at the...
Text Message to a Friend Accidentally Deleted When the Mushrooms Wore Off.
A horse's flank tightens and lifts,
I admire you, flank unhinged and tail
flicked. I lean on a fence and draft bits.
I admire you, as a man, though
more (and less)...
The Takeout Mood
We both know I’m going to spill
bits of eggroll along the thin line
where the ottoman meets the floor.
They’ll leave a little slick of grease.
And you’ll press them to the thin,
maddening bit of moisture on your...