It’s out, ladies and gentlemen. My first but not last book of poetry. Only $7.95 on Amazon.com, or contact me and I’ll send you a signed copy.
Poems in the collection were previously published in Poetry Quarterly, Menacing Hedge, Nostrovia!, A-Minor, Word Riot, Commonline Journal, New York Quarterly, Durable Goods, Rosebud, The Foundling Review, Underground Voices, A Clean, Well-Lighted Place, Mas Tequila Review, Up the Staircase, Existere, Red Fez, Snow Monkey, Clutching at Straws, Gutter Eloquence, Horror, Sleaze and Trash, Zygote in My Coffee, Milk Magazine, Bolts of Silk, Bloody Bridge Review, Pop Serial, Rusty Truck, Calliope Nerve, Breadcrumb Scabs, decomP, Main Street Rag, A Cappella Zoo, Camel Saloon, Ramshackle Review, Thunderclap #2, Rose & Thorn, Sex and Murder, Battered Suitcase, Mad Rush, Full of Crow, Lummox Journal, and Siren
Now is not the time to talk about money,
Chavis, nor the Crimean crisis, nor your father’s
cancer, nor your daughter’s mother’s specially-
Now is the time to say so long Care, so long
tormenting Hope, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
and tomorrow; scatter liberally
lilies and purple flowers,
play soft Italian baroque, uncork the vintage rosé.
Every moment has in it the possibility
of rebirth; every moment a dying orchid.
The world is nothing
more than dew-glaze on a grasshopper’s wings.
But one day, one night, one hour,
(so you know), the willow flakes
as though they’re hearing music, love’s strange
arrow-drawn pricksong will travel
over the waters, and the falcon will find
the falconer’s glove.