Corn

There were these two boys, brothers

known as Gimp and Stripling

One of them was actually crippled

you can guess who and the other

was really not that young and

they lived together in a house

a small house on the corner of Main

and Willow Creek then one night

tired of being mocked by Stripling

Gimp shot him in the head while

Stripling was popping corn so that

the neighbors wouldn't hear a gunshot he thought

the sheriff found Gimp by his brother's body

head blown, pool of blood and all, eating

a big bowl of freshly popped popcorn and 

that was that. Not far from their house

lived another boy, went by the name Capote

I'm guessing not because of the writer and

coincidence or not this boy was a sissy and

somewhat retarded, maladjusted, maladroit

died of pneumonia past winter and the town

folks thought weird of the boy's passing

and dumped his body by a corn field

Sick

A fumaça levanta de cada xícara

em cada mesa, ao mesmo tempo.

Coisas acontecem o tempo todo,

coisas acontecem a todo minuto

coisas que não tem nada a ver conosco

Laocoon warns his fellow Trojans

Do not trust the Horse,

Trojans, whatever it is I fear

the Greeks even bearing gifts

[ ... ]

At the same time

he stretched forth to tear the knots

with his hands, his fillets soaked

with saliva and black venom,

at the same time.

Morning plea

Bird, I choke on you

violent beak like mother

feeding worm to mouth

Subdued, seduced. My head

on your bare chest rests

my flesh for carrion flower.

Yellowthroat and Trachea

deities of air and breath

try and show me your face

strip off your black mask

What hatred, what halter

how naked and crushed

Cater to me, I'm tethered

my travelling paths unaltered

Scene

Cup rests over saucer:

"Our nights are dire", then I mute.

"Swans are waltzing over this dark lake"

Cup rests over saucer.

On a field, looking away from stables:

"Heard a gunshot", then it echoes

"Had a broken leg, couldn't run"

On a field, looking away from stables.

Front porch, clinging to bottle:

"And that was that", then it slips

"Watch out for broken glass"

Front porch.

Se houvesse um livro sobre este corredor

Começaria assim: há uma estrada dentro da casa

com rodapés de pinho nas esquinas

e lâmpadas na parede que conferem ao caminho

uma certa infinitude, a noite

Lembro do dia em que deixei o carteiro esperando no corredor

no meu quarto, desenhei sua "cara de maçã" enquanto esperava

na sombra

Não importa o quão desimportante, é uma cena da história

uma história no livro

Será que os sonhos se passam em corredores porque a perspectiva é estranha?

ou porque são são grandes palcos, sem uso, dentro de casa?

O corredor era o leito seco de um rio, sonhei uma noite

Uma estrada indígena, noutra noite

(e pode mesmo ter sido um dos dois antes da casa estar lá)

E nunca ouvi o carteiro indo embora, mas vi que havia ido

quando saí do quarto para pendurar o desenho na parede

Ventos azedos de lustra-móveis circulam pelo corredor

Antes pinheiros, em lugar das portas

Se Cristo houvesse morrido em um corredor, talvez rezássemos em corredores

Ou usariamos pequenos corredores dourados em volta do pescoço

Como pode continuar tão frio depois de tantas passadas?

Um fora que, de alguma maneira, é dentro.

Fool's gold

Pirate on fire struck against this flinty skin

flickers, coruscates and then glimmers

just like all the rest and what's left

for good, for laughs, in cavities on

the living room widower's mouth is

a moth waltzing the air and this light

skull shaped thorax for mast lacking

the crossbones in your nightly banner

Chi é e non é

... someone once told me that explaining is an admission of failure

I'm sure you remember, I was on the phone with you, sweetheart.

Invece da spiegare chi é e non é, non voglio svegliare me e ne pensare a te.

Poem with your name in it

Dangling dangerously under clouds

Aftermath of bitter somber

Never thought of sleeping over

In this bed of gangly owner

Ears were warned I hear

Leap again in nest so near

Not considering consequences

Over time you'll lose your senses

Great adventure I would say

Under spells of empathy

Earnest talk and mild at play

In conducted entropy

Random thoughts that cross the brain

Ambitions grew and made me vain

Burning under silver suns

Until dark night overcomes

Dimming days that once were clear

Numbing hours, filled with mire

Yours, and never truly minding fire

I have no idea on how to be confessional

That's as far as my misunderstanding goes

and it often leads me to corridors

that are not especially large or long

like the ones in a house these corridors

lead to rooms behind doors and that's

where the action in this poem is set

But I will not talk about these rooms

for I have no idea on how to be confessional

Gauge

Swung my fiery sword

vent my spleen at the Lord

so abstract, so bored

too much milk

too much honey

and phone calls

corrupting mornings

[thank you, S. M.]

Late afternoon, April 8...

...

Then he turns in to the harbor,

where at once it grows calmer.

Takes off his hat and waves it

like mad - like an old-time cowboy!

Something he won't ever forget.

You betcha.

Me neither.

[R. Carver]

Axiom of the nightly idiom

Like a truism laid to sleep.

Distant thunder

Two pines against lit background

midsummer light and the grass

my dog dreams of bone

He is also a horse

Worn out shirt or "the dregs"

as I once referred to as

Unable to be donned

retired later to cedar floors

Silverfish devours all Latin

and Greek and [hole]

a cemetery wall now

uneven death in your tongue

So distant a night, a winter

a dull thump of the clouds

my dog, my shirt, your Latin

wallow in wanting still, here

Gush

Calling the bluffs,

talking so tough

Angel of Corpus Christi

You're so misty,

tell me what I wanna hear

I'm looking for a tired face

in case you want to go.

Sunday.

Subtle fire

Our feelings slip like

subtle fire onto my skin.

"Nonchalant with Southern Crux suite" 

Vicarious Motherhood

You were born, like comma

in my tongue, hesitant

to my eyes thalidomide

at my age, incomplete

between the clock and the bed.