Works

In salt flats,
idle pools
bunching off the ocean,
multi-legged crabs, worsted stalks -
sea crimson weed
weigh the panoply
to heighten my deepening fervour.

In the bedrock shanks...

She had a fireplace -
the sexual kiln
of her pyromaniac
desire,
a brick embedded in heat,
white hot coal to ember,
her lust flaring red,
soot to powder
dark as charcoal
smear, a walk...

On the night of the rains,
water was oozing out from
the sky's swollen stitches,
a rash developed across
the meaning of the heavens.

The wooden floors of my attic place...

" ... A universe of ineffable gaudiness spun
itself out in his brain ... a promise
that the rock of the world was founded
securely on a faery's wing."
THE GREAT GATSBY

Perceiving the universe...

A magnificent Red Devil
splayed out in his tracks;
this tumultuous soul, baron of the backwoods
with his provenance unknown ...
this compromise to individuality
abandons him to chorome death...

Life as green illusion -
the cool fronds of the fern
are deep set in firmest soil
and the grassy narrows
brook a silent, liquid play.

Red illusions under glass -
quietly picking strawberries...

And he told them "the universe is a ripe apple in heavenly
consummation with Newtonian physics".
Comparisons grew rife with planets in the cosmos measured...

If the rich are different
they show it with the
clarity of their table
as Fitzgerald decried,
the breathless hush
of their garden regalias,
the manner in which wedgewood...

Petals that fall into a woodland pool
are servers at a banquet.
Each one dresses for the occasion
like an employee with regrets,
that leaves the house in a somber mood
the morning after his resignation.

Rip, an inarticulate dog with a namesake derivative of more.
...

Did time on the Hegelian
spirit, Freudian id,
the totemic response to
the unknowable
where each phenomenon of nature
became dream time itself,
the electric crackle
of God's Voice-...

Fate is a mahout astride a large elephant, impersonal
as dark sun with winds raging across a desert. Fate is
the old bones of dead Indians being resurrected as
ground mist on the edge of a salt marsh.
...

The Squirrel, a corsair,
rides the wind black arm
of a pressing sea,

Tribal hostilities finished,
she slinks into port.

Traveling lightly across open ground,...

So much time has passed
& time is a hooligan run wild
littering the streets,
squeezing toothpaste at the wrong end
shredding clothes with a razor blade.

Time is never called into account -...

I see children rowing with crayons
across a park lagoon.

They are sagging,
they have just killed a blackbird playing:

the lot of you,
scribbling to school.

Later on, I retrieved...

Picturesque Tituba, steeped in Obeah,
in a hairball swoon
leads a harangue about witches with
some of Salem's more delicate
women, obedient children.

In verdant outcrops of the imagination...

A gypsy sits in a taverna
joking with a sailor
who has left
bridges and maidens
along islets connecting
many a storied sea.

Ducats tumble from a
cloth bag the way...

"The clock indicates the hour but what does enternity indicate?"
Whitman

Imagine, being told cubism isn't painting. That
Beardsley didn't die at 26, unheralded as a boy genius...

In the crypt with Columbus
in the crypt with Giovanni
of Genoa, the diaspora driven Jew;
watching flecks of the cathedral floor
jade-eyed and mica afraid...

The reef was inviting, her languid coral nudging the breakers as they returned from sea. From the instep of the dingy, the fisherman in his broken English was advising the seated men of dangers indigenous to these waters.
...