Poetry Archives Bio
September 30, 2019
10:21 AM
hiding places

the furies circle our house in wide arcs
the skies darken

they promise rain but it never comes
and when it comes it is a flood

my wife is like the wind

in the afternoon
she enters the house from the deck
offers me wild thunderstorms she had plucked
fresh off the vine

out by the farms i hear gunfire
just one shot  a loud flat sound

whose turn is it to die

in a very chic restaurant somewhere abroad
a fat gay white man
pretends to stab his date
a thin brown gay man  as a joke
they laugh

at the hotel
she offers me her self saucing pud
hot from the ivan

     there was once a young man from moscow
     who couldn't quite often get hard
     he tried it with crisco while playing the disco
     but ended up coming with lard

when the cock crows
the furies drop like black rain

the cook dusts off his mandolin
the seamstress sews seams
fantastical sleeves that don't make any sense

the cock says moo
the cow cock a doodle doos
the toet pypes

out in the ditch rest the guilty and innocent
their faces alike in the daybreak

when is it enough light

i shall wait until midday
I shall go to her