… I Among twenty snowy mountains, The only moving thing Was the eye of the blackbird. II I was of three minds, Like a tree In which there are three blackbirds. III The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds. It … Continue reading

… I Among twenty snowy mountains, The only moving thing Was the eye of the blackbird. II I was of three minds, Like a tree In which there are three blackbirds. III The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds. It … Continue reading
… … THE CLIMATE I myself like the climate of New York I see it in the air up between the street You use a worn-down cafeteria fork But the climate you don’t use stays fresh and neat. Even we … Continue reading
… From 1976 until 1983, Jacob Burckhardt recorded and edited Edwin Denby reading from his Collected Poems. Here is Sonnet 8 from A Sonnet Sequence. 8 Three old sheepherders so filthy in their ways Whores wouldn’t touch them with a … Continue reading
… 25 My cat and I play chasing each other. He jumps while I write and then stretches out full length in back of the warm computer to claw my hand when it comes in sight. Ouch! Ow! I say … Continue reading
… Had I left sooner or later it would all have been different, but I didn’t and got into two arguments, one in a store and one on the sidewalk about the neighborhood with two freeloaders who do nothing, yet … Continue reading
… The quiet aftermath of disaster dangling in the sunlight in a tall tree only decay to ever come after falling apart vanishing in the breeze where every now and then someone looks up to wonder what it was that … Continue reading
… The butterflies of spring are small and dark not colorful and bright like butterflies of summer hovering from flower to flower in beauty’s camouflage. Two butterflies on the asphalt road laid with silver stone though small stand out. Because … Continue reading
… I found a dimpled spider, fat and white, On a white heal-all, holding up a moth Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth— Assorted characters of death and blight Mixed ready to begin the morning right, Like the … Continue reading
… I write the word: I am behind itYou read the word: you are before it We make a oneness, a reflectiontwo separate moments come together But the word is still between us Some day there’ll be no wordsSome day … Continue reading
… In the early 90s I went to Mexio to work on my novel, What Night Forgets, usually for the month of January. When I was in the city of Oaxaca, I was always looking for books of printed art … Continue reading
… February 17, on a writing assignment for the Bryant Park Poetry Series, I went to the Kinokuniya Bookstore at 1073 Avenue of the Americas to hear Tom Sleigh read from his new book, Station Zed, poems and prose about … Continue reading
… … If it weren’t for Stephen Spera, I doubt I’d have gotten into Barney. I was very lax, and still am, about getting myself into things. Stephen, on the other hand, was always looking for and aware of opportunities. … Continue reading