Considering Metal Man (as a Template for World Peace)
He sits in Union Station so that you don’t have to,
Covered in metallic paint, not moving, like applied
Pascal taken one step publicly further.
Now That You’re Gone
at least until the end of the first semester,
who’s going to yank the sheet from the mattress,
click the nubs of new bicuspids,
if you’re not around to dream?
Man with Birds and Bread
On the edges of the afternoon
we lie on the beach, gray waves
the only language,
the gun-gray curlings of salt-tongue.
What We Were Told
the beautiful woman in front of you
is not your wife
though you’d like her to be.
You woo her with bouquets
from the garden every day.
Weeping, Weeping, Weeping
Weeping, weeping, weeping.
No wonder the oceans are full;
No wonder the seas are rising.