POEM ALONE

Dear ----------: I promised you a letter and here it is beginning as always with an apology sorry, so sorry for not writing sooner though yo...

here lies what once was— splintered glass of near truths resting beneath the power-blue hush of we don’t need to talk about it . we used to ...

The move to winter always jolts despite it being marked on the calendar, this annual trauma, jouncing in so soon after September. I shop for...

As a boy I watched, bemused, my father on his annual autumnal   sorties to the large expanse of lawn separating our house from Anzac Highway...

And the word flew from the lips of love, and this was the first note, and it rang through the heavens, calling all the lost notes to it, all...

Taffy or candy corn, no, sweeter still than a beignet or a balanced blade of a cake knife, a chainsaw on an ash tree trunk, stripped from ba...

My old weight has returned. Should I welcome it? Should I regret? Still weak after the calenture and the fever, I take the weekend for a dri...

The mortician who came for my father was too big for his suit. Young and fit, the muscles in his arms bulged beneath the fabric like beans i...

We set sail on a barf bucket with vinyl seats because I'd read a book about loneliness and wanted to check the address, and you were not...

w e travelled by foot, horse and wagon, waiting for a promise of great machines to deliver us into the future.   the machines came, too many...