Poems

The Ballad Of The Lonely Masturbator The end of the affair is always death. She’s my workshop. Slippery eye, out of the tribe of myself my […]

The Bells Today the circus poster is scabbing off the concrete wall and the children have forgotten if they knew at all. Father, do you remember? […]

The Big Boots of Pain There can be certain potions needled in the clock for the body’s fall from grace, to untorture and to plead for. […]

The Big Heart “Too many things are occurring for even a big heart to hold.” – From an essay by W. B. Yeats Big heart, wide […]

The Black Art A woman who writes feels too much, those trances and portents! As if cycles and children and islands weren’t enough; as if mourners […]

The Break It was also my violent heart that broke, falling down the front hall stairs. It was also a message I never spoke, calling, riser […]

The Break Away Your daisies have come on the day of my divorce: the courtroom a cement box, a gas chamber for the infectious Jew in […]

The Breast This is the key to it. This is the key to everything. Preciously. I am worse than the gamekeeper’s children picking for dust and […]

The Child Bearers Jean, death comes close to us all, flapping its awful wings at us and the gluey wings crawl up our nose. Our children […]

The Children The children are all crying in their pens and the surf carries their cries away. They are old men who have seen too much, […]