It Was the 1970s

It was the 1970s
The lobsters were in the sink
The water was set on boil
I stood on a chair

my father's height
and dashed water on them
until their eyes moved
My father who was finishing 

his Miller Lite grabbed a clam
and opened it with his knife
There among a broken shell
a soft cream rose and then fell
like the inside of our hearts

(For You)

Today you left
the trapped
sense of playing
your part to
the history books
Paid little attention

Left the things
that the artist sketched
on canvas
the sunrise
breaking into puddles

you saw
the arc of it
Even now

with the poem getting 

smaller

through

it’s minor deletions

you still see 

what is just leaving

leaving and 

what is just left

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Where My My Inside..

How small you are

beside the moon

you and I walking
through the earth 

A movie
two

young snow
naked
under
dark

The Horn

I want a happy ending with skeletons

with the real green jokes

with the brightness that invades the purple

the invisible carousel in the busy marketplace 

the essay fresh and bobbing in a pool 

a song that grew out of a glancing shoelace

thoughts from the unconscious

story I will tell you about

the texture of an address

the glad world canvas

the instant bird eternal

the moon in the corner of the universe

the distinct smile 

the volcanoes of corn

things fitted into voices 

as passengers close in

and sound their horns

Dependency

I will be a layer of dust
when you are that thing
that sounds the alarm
I will return to you
like light evening
a shadow in 

a way that can

be beheld

fill it with tears
with the reality 
of language
from the speaker

who is now speaking

and the lady

who is now

wiping the floor

with his words.

My Defects My Virtues

The singular love
leaves from my torso
like free air
who is the director
who lives the fantasy
who turns the mill
that grounds us all 

into flower beds
I am sad it is true
but my feet do not end
in sacrifice unless
you want me
to respond to
your name.