My little sister is beautiful.She has our father’s eyes, brown.Her mother’s skin—light, blinding.
Something in her skin draws meand I look like a confused scribble,a...
What’s Left of My Grandmother’s Signature
In her room at Poet’s Walkher first name begins witha cursive J elegantlycompleting itself on the wall,
resting in suspended...
HUSBAND
A handthat reaches out
mooring mefrom a night of wind-tossed dreams
luring me back to portthis bed our terra firma
the heat of his palmthe only thing...
To the
Poet—S. K.—
on Channel WNET-13
Your unexpected
radiance lightens the gloom
in Brooklyn. You hunch;
you sit by the sea.
Rumbling like the rumpled waves,
your voice splashes me....
A Kind of Spring
The best time to fall in love
is when you share your greatest fear
with someone who isn’t listening.
There’s a decent chance that
will...
Vacuum
Not a heavy weight, more like
carrying around the five extra
pounds from the holidays all year.
Or maybe more like something one
picks up and sets...
War StoryHere is the book
with torn pages.
Only half remains
to be deciphered.
And here is the house
with burnt rooms,
and a few fading photos
scattered across the floor.
And...
stars melt in your skin
for R.M
quiet nights held inside your hands like water waitingfor the chance to become your ladder.
you first reminisced, as if...
After William Carlos Williams
So much
De
Pends
Uponthe dazed chickens
Fraughtwith meltwater
Besidesthe demonic and menacing
Icecream truck
Thatcirculates the neighborhood
Withan off-key kilter tune:
(Davidsings-“ dee bee dee bee dee bee boop...
