November, 2011

Or, A Moral Inventory

A mistake of familiarity: / concrete for miles, yet / to leave it or part it / I tried to make like the cobblestones

Inside School #1

The shoes stood out: / one burned black sneaker, / one soiled white slipper / with faux jewelry, / one girl’s toeless sandal / and a woman’s pump.

Spannocchia Guest Book, 1964-1994

A leather-bound volume on the old wooden desk in the farthest part of the villa interior offers pen drawings of dogs, Bacchus, and ghosts flanking a Chiocciola Contrada flag atop the tower.


It’s about art in the 21st, 22nd . . . whatever the hell century we’re in. / It’s whatshisname yelling Howl Howl . . . Ginsberg.

Here Comes the Zebra

All the sheep run and dress themselves / like a left-over member of the circus, / like a toy monkey-on-a-stick.