Poetry

It’s taken everything to bring them here: 
the peaches, grapes, oysters, the goblet of 
wine, the table & cloth. 

The water level
comes up when
you throw in
stones, bricks…

Is it rude to tell men you don’t
            love them just the idea of them

The mind 
likes the squeeze 
of chutes and channels.

Things of my world, thwart, solid, chockablock,
That I was wont lightly to wield and dandle,
Now, button-bungler, fool of lid, latch, lock,

sic on it, the cameras: witch-green greasepaint canopy—
pan down: the thick bamboo lattice
twine-bound—pan down: dirt with rags to gag up,

Let’s go downtown. It’s a hot summer night.
Lovers are sitting in sidewalk cafés—
Breaking up, making up, hooking up, cooking up
Plans for tonight that leave them amazed.

Dear L.A.,

I am sorry for your—Dear 

Baja and Bay, I am sorry