THORNY DIALECTIC

Sunday morning sauntering 

together past—pinkwhite

rosebush after 

pinkwhite rosebush—my romantic side kept leaping 

and tugging hard against 

my own commonsense intuition—

to reach 

and pluck the finest blossom

and pin the specimen

fast under your headband—

in order to somehow 

further advance—this curious cumulative notion 

I have of how beauty works.

Luckily—before acting

I thought a bit better

of the audacity! and 

the fruitlessness 

of presuming

to tamp down such a wild crown

as loveliness—by snipping 

and sticking it way

out of context.

BODY

Frothy but innocuous 

extract of 

water and 

bitter beans—reminding me 

again how 

there's

sweet soul—in the commonest 

of objects. 

REGULAR ROUTINE

Dim and numbly sweetening 
her coffee
this morning

the way I've been 
doing since—I can't even remember
I suddenly realize

that each 
and every little
faceted crystal

of humble 
table sugar

has something 
to teach me
about forever;

that it's—precisely 
and entirely

there!
in the blankwhite arduousness 
of simplicity,

in that relentless 
and brutally strict 
repetition—of details
made of
details 
made of 
details—

that infinity—composedly and statically 
exists

having always 
and already 
finished the whole of its

beautifully rich 
and regular work.

AT DELPHI

From a soaking-
wet perch
on a bridgefull of belching 

John F. Kennedy memorial traffic—
even the ordinarily
electrified downtown

looks curiously 
distant and half-
missing this morning—

replaced instead with
a confounding

and a gray 
edgeless series 
of arcane rectangular 
facades looming in stiff mist—

like some 
ancient objects

perhaps built 
long ago 
as monuments—
to all those who came

and left 
before 
their pale builders—

the entire race of whom
it seems
was eventually 

wiped off the planet—
by its own sick ambition

and a sheer lack  
of rest.

SAFETY IS A MAJOR CONCERN

The pair of unbuttoned 
clothesfulls
of firsttime 

homebuyers don't care—
how pretty 

or handmade 
the filigree—they're still
disenchanted 

as they are 
expecting—to see 

so much righteous 
and reclaimed wrought-
iron—forged

into bars marring frontdoors 
of 
so many 

imperfect-
ly adorable ranchstyles.

METEOROLOGICAL SUMMER

Newsflash—
summer! happens 
the second

you 
find yourself
sauntering

past—glinting 
hordes of greasy  
black flies aggressively

hunkered— 
so greedily 
across a 

wide wad 
of highly
conspicuous dogshit and—however

fleetingly—think 
it's—
astronomically pretty.

PRAYER FROM THE 25TH FLOOR

Dear god,
if it 
happens—as it probably

must—that I'm more 
or less
stuck

at work—here 
on the
very last

perfect day on earth;

have a little 
heart!—and consider
at least

turning me 
into a fearless-
ly deliberate 

early morning
shift 
window-washer.