La Plage Sud
Some people want to help
Some want to talk
Some know there is a difference
between sick and sickly.
That one ends,
one is.
I hate the way I look through all your eyes
Some people have
the gift of foolishness,
others abandon.
More still sit up
floors above crowded bars
and try to think of synonyms for love.
Oh no, I know, they’re not—
They’re my your eyes.
It’s not that I don’t know
Just I can’t help seeing you look at me
as if you’ve just remembered what you promised
and what can really be.


Even on mud or grasses,

Strain Again

All Change

The Nocturnes

Newton’s Cradle

Another Time

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
