from Kundiman for the Condemned

Poetry

ahlan wa sahlan note a poem o receive it here as it charades onto history's gauzy list

The Human Machine: 30 Chances

Poetry

No, in a shed under the machine You stopped brushing; then you resumed brushing

The Fallout

Poetry

The fallout mustn’t be monitored

Dead Black Men

Poetry

I won’t die at a party like this, falling over the contortions in my gut or floating over the whirlpool of cups...

For Beth Ward

Poetry

One of my basic human dilemmas goes something like, Does metaphor contain us, or do we extend ourselves out into it?

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Poetry

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MAY 2008

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