Our words and our looks—
we’re all artists, in a way,
seeking happiness.
Six strips; all felt; glued.
An object that knows itself,
the chalk eraser.
how nice they all are
these people that I don’t know
who live around me
Wine and then coffee.
Tell me: is this a problem
or a solution?
A stray dog trotting.
Is there a poster for him?
Would he know of it?
on the street corner
mountain laurels touch the bus
at traffic passes
grackles swarm at dusk
their patterns seem to map the
chaotic March wind
In the hall I saw
two string players I knew.
Neither one said hi.
at the bus stop
the warm exhaust mixed with the
cool fragrant spring air
Citric mysteries:
grapefruit is always on sale;
oranges are too.
call me a rock star
drive me across the country
with a tattooed girl
sandblast the sidewalk
fix the hinge on the back gate
blow the leaves away
pennies in a stream
falling leaves, a sycamore
moonlight in Vermont
cokehead luthier
needed dope, sold his basses
drove to Mexico
the Manhattan crane—
was there a flag on its jib
flapping peacefully?
“They stole furniture,”
said local law enforcement,
“through the rear fence gate.”
Do I really need a
a ten-pack of erasers?
No. No I do not.
they both decide to
shave their dog by the pool side
the bald thing jumped in
no guns nor no beer
at the flea market by here
where’s the fun in that?
— “I smell vinegar.”
— “I clean my windows with it.”
— “You are strange, neighbor.”
the dumpster crashes
the truck loud like a dragon
a green trash dragon
Tomorrow? Never.
Yesterday? Not there either.
Right now? Yes, right now.
my neighbor’s black cat
snuck into my apartment
it now has eight lives
Deep in the pantry
I found a can of pumpkin.
Surprise! And soon, pies!
passion, cigarettes
a leather coat from Moscow
she often chews gum
don’t meet me at the
conceptual sculpture show
I made other plans
you compose music
your voice louder than others’
your glasses thicker
iridescent beef
an oval slice with gravy
shimmering rainbows
he with a dark beard
her with a grape-purple scarf
sitting together