DAREDEVIL

Hail little 

cobalt 

hot cat creeping—

greeneyed underneath 

a merely

idling Windstar!

Here's really hoping 

you just a little 

quicker 

than that—to catch 

whatever

ratty thing you're after!

BRUNCH FAST

Stiff coffee 

and a warm buttery—

Mozart horn 

concerto—anyone?

THE MIRACLE

In the beginning—
even 
the word

that first
spoke itself—
must have been 

deaf. Even
that face—moving out 
across the surface

of the waters
in all directions—was blind
and felt 

no motion.
Being 

pure light—
it could never 
itself—be lit;

nor warmed,
nor wet,
nor caught,
much less—thought about.

In fact—it is that,

only that,
and 
exactly that—the certainty

upon which
all 
I've said 

since then
is founded;
the idea

that a thought—
even 
this thought—

even 
the first 
and most 

perfect pure 
thought 
in the universe—basically 

has literally—
no idea!
what it was thinking.

GRACENOTES

Perhaps only—the 
shyest and

quietest of 
blushing poets know—its overwhelmingly

if not precisely—the subtle 
little uncountable

zillions!
of spangled strawyellow 

summer suns refracted—
in each

faceted droplet 
of condensation colonizing 

every curve
of its nonetheless 

crimson-
flushed cheeks—

that make
a furtive thing 

like a chilled
nectarine—worth mentioning.

AMENDMENTS TO ULYSSES' CONTRACT

Actually—hang on 
sailors, I want you
to wait!

until I can just
barely 
begin to make-

out each floozy 
little curve 
and stray
nape of that ancient 

and ooey-
gooey 
warm jiggling 
squirt of a melody—

and only
then! I mean—only

after that! should you
tie me
tie me
tie me

tie me
tie me down—fast!

to the 
tottom?
no—
the bop?
no—
the butt!

of the mast.

SCINTILLATING—

The way the hopeful 

public grammar 

school wall mural—

facing 

north on Division

Avenue—really sparkles!

every time

another

ambulance passes.

DAILY PRACTICE

Sometimes I'm blind 

and pretty

rudely just—punching up

a helpless white 

page with 

circuitous words

until—we're both

of us so 

dizzy we can

no longer tell—

whether this 

is a space that I've violated 

versus 

one—

that I've made.