The Hot Gates



His last earthly sound and no

one to note it.  If someone heard

a shepherd singing I heard nothing.

Beethoven’s starving horse.  Successive

electors.  A tree doesn’t have ears.  A

whole forest on the back of a truck.

Would Dante have written his epic

without exile?  Do you say Manassas

or Bull Run?  A knight, treading on

a strange animal, in tombstone relief.

Believe but don’t belong.  Life after life.

Live out your own spirituality.  Don’t

plant corn till the dogwood blooms.  Bit

by a snake, won’t pick up a rope.  Chew

laurel leaves to induce oracular powers.

As much prophecy as knowledge.  Stellar

influence explains the behavior of prophets.

The man who coveted my cloak in Memphis

later became king.  Never to be recreated,

hardly to be remembered.  The treatise

never reached the garden.  
















Freshwater Evidence



Drawer too full of pistols to find a fresh

bookmark.  Marking my page in Barrett’s

Magus with a takeout flyer from Guadalupana,

whose beef tongue burritos I adore.  If I lived on an

ait in the Narraguagus I could watch eagles feeding

on both banks.  Whenever I come to call you’re

either combing your hair or drying wheat.  Would

that I could make the music that comforts me.

Still not sure what the neutrino offers.  As near

to nothing as we know.  Never alone in sunlight.

Sun as horse, as the nag is said to whinny. 

The fiery backbone, the first body fossil we’ve found.

Shooting too heavy to come from thugs, silences

pregnant with further meaning.  Funerals for the

protestors further inflaming the unrest.  Taboos are

of no use to us.  Remember the sacrifices that took

place on that hill, just before the motorway.