CAVES OF STEEL

JANUARY STILL LIFE

In winter on wire
her voice leaps
through miles of copper

We understand the child
transforming the birds
into land creatures

There on the wall
is a bottle green
with river water

Three foxes pursue
the botanist
through acres of bramble.

IN ALL YOUR DWELLINGS

It is cold.    The boys
in the lobby,  lobby
for heat
and a chance to connect
with terminal women.

As a child you sang
an autumnal hymn
secretive with leaves
and copper relics
of another age.

I loosened my eyes
and saw
lizards on the tame veranda.

THE DAPPER BONDSMAN

Clothing
as solemn as Dutch oil
on her crewel lace

With a carpet knife
she assures
a presence in the house

Once having loved me
her white rattle
conceals a winter insect

For all your beauty
you kept me
bound with austere emotions.

BODIES OF EIGHT PEOPLE

Never a stone
neither a lover of children
nor husband to grief.

This has all been changed
He seems to have
awoken to dying.

Where are you now
snared by a house
hook etched with women.

I need to know
what he said  .  a lap
full of cats.

Listen to him
please her with blue eye
lashes in January.

THE GLACIAL CRAVAT

Large hands and wedlock
on Milwaukee avenue wet
paint on the tavern gate

She spoke of insects
and not surprisingly
knew of foliage and wings

Departing has become
a casual torment
taking on permanent form

At the outing
in the forest
she became the lookout
for biker tribes.

AMERICAN ADVENTURES

Gasoline in the cellar
and a match
for your husband.

We never caused anything
and now you bitch,
rag like a syllable
unable to service
the Buick in your spine.

How very quaint of you
to suggest an arsenal
of Class A weapons
as payment for
a patchwork life.