Dollar King is probably not the most idyllic place to pick up flowers, especially when they're fake.   She’ll call you cheap, deride...

The man in the purple boat has yet  to unfurl his sails. We see him every morning , dock- side on a chair, at the marina across the...

It’s just infatuation, the stirring of pheromones,   like a potion of witch’s brew on Hallows' Eve,   a frog’s eye here, a snake’s tongue...

ONE   This isn’t yet another suicide, refrains of self- demise,   but rather the ecstasy of knowing that it ends, the instant life tastes...

I always pull my punches playing Scrabble—   just this after- noon, for instance, with a potential triple-word, my holding back an R that...

You greet me with Morning ,  never Good Morning— like you did when hearts were younger.   Morning    rises from a horizon, like an...

I’ve known you for 60 years and yet I don’t, pulling you by the leash as though a mongrel,   shrieking , kicking up a storm,   and not...

The final line of this poem no longer exists. It was surely there for the taking , its fingernails clutching rock, at the top of a...

The website says this poem takes a minute to read—well, if you’re an auctioneer, perhaps.   A poem is not the climax of a thriller, where...

This Rottie’s tongue is jutting between its fangs, like a cold cut soaked in slobber,   in a chilling maw of stalactites— its pointy...

When you asked me for the best Italian bistro  in this city, I answered  google it.   That day on the beach,  as you peered into the ...

This is a pretty crummy way to say finis,   when every lark and every oak have passed away, with all the rest of our tired clichés:   The...

i   The cityscape is cracked and bleeding. You hear a trumpet in the middle of the road rage. Panners ask you for change. You tell them...

It’s the fullness worse than hunger, that ends in throwing up;   the itch more awful than pain—the red from scratch and blood;   it’s...

Get the rat's nest off your head Get that crazy-ass mullet off your skull Take your ass to the barbershop Tell the barber that you're...

Potential is overrated.   It’s the flip- side of what is possible, the call of tails and heads;   looking so pendulous— leaving you...

Do you really want to live forever? —Alphaville, Forever Young   I’ve always found it odd that immorality and immortality are very nearly...

There’s a beauty to our numbers that I note with admiration: the shape of cipher 6 and its curving, crescent close; 8, with its weaving,...

I only see her when she’s out, the woman across the way, pushing her lawnmower that has no engine, the grating of squeaky wheels, its...

I owe my grand existence to a jagged asteroid—   to a circle that surrounds the Yucatan, the crater of Chicxulub;   to all the fossils...