Another Time
How empty it is out here
on some corners,
even close enough to hear the others’
intermittent heaving.
And funnier still since these are
not the holding corners, not the kind
to fill, or to be full, or not, these are instead
the kind that juts.
Midnight, like emptiness, is arbitrary
but we need, we need
the thing between two things
for definition, like side-light on a dancer.
Funny,
like not watching the big game:
The sudden brouhahas, then silences;
Roof-garden roman candles, and the spitting rain.


Even on mud or grasses,

Strain Again

La Plage Sud

All Change

The Nocturnes

Newton’s Cradle

How We Know Each Other

Houdini’s Wife

Trying To Finish A Sonnet At Le Pain Quotidien

Crossing the Pont du Lac Ha! Ha!

(Running) After Catullus (With a Knife)

So What’s My Super-Objective

Remember Once, When It Was Raining,

The Word Is “Yet”

A Subway Sketch

Wait Up! I’m Hamlet, Too!

It’s Always Something

The Buddha in My Window Box Faces Away

Arranged

Don’t Go
