Works

Parable as metaphor -
profile in hard glint of light,
buckskin garb
merging from shadow &
buckboards -
sandwiching of memory
being elbowed
thru a Deadwood City
saloon door.
...

It's Epsom but could pass for Epping,
New Forest or Dumbarton Wood.

There's ivy of the thickest
English sort not commonly
found in America; sprigs
growing across open ground
mantling it....

Poltergeist activity
- the sun winding like a staircase
onto the pavement,
rickety afternoon
shooting back thru
shawls of the city.

Tippy-toe. Curtains...

The most appropriate comment,
besides pig knuckles on racks
& rabbits skewered on prongs
or the Chinese lettering
playing tricks with your Occidental eyes,
is the Breakfast at Tiffany's...

Ticonderoga to Lake George,
the classic invasion route
up the Richelieu valley
past Plattsburg,
Verdun,
' Montr'al
across the North Shore
reroute again

to savour Albany;...

Our lives evaporating as we talk,
flypaper from cosmic ceiling -

We gather stardust,
mnemonics, perhaps,
re-arrangers of mystic twigs
into a pattern.

Look to the sky,...

And what of privileged things
mur & frankinscense
or sandlewood -
yes, teak, ambergris
or skies of indigo blue
- I cite these gifts,
caravans offered as treasure
Christopher Wren putting...

All the candles are passing out, one by one.
They have evaporated their brightness,
overpowered limpid cracks in their own flames, seized
the outpouring air with hesitant breath to brave...

All that is eternal is circular.
- Aristotle

Cueta and Tetuan are outposts within the Arab psyche,
frail islets jutting their Islamic consciousness
into the infidel mind.
...

The night is folly without the moon,
trees blank space against a frontal sky
where lattice work from a bled fish reveals
skeletal markings will not administer
the red jack of hearts to a mistress sea.
...

1

"Death is but a sleep"
quaint rationalization
even to Revolutionaries.
Think of Robespierre
holding his bleeding jaw
or Marat outside -
eyeing the inscription,...

One thing about this type of education, it certainly taught an individual to be philosophical about death.
...

An iron wrought gate of turpentine force conveys little pigment,
almost black parchment letters mindful of
hands, arched and stroked from the very stone, until an...

Orange lichens, in sun-like clusters,
entomb the Rockface wall
a sheer ascent from the waterline
into glassy viscous green - -
the plummet from skyward
to lake face
passes breathless squadrons...

To perforate in adumbration,
as obviator, the sphincter muscle
of intensity; then paint
the world in aperture,
a picture of one's mind.

Spring heralds the summer with lilacs perched from that door.

In snows, a swarm of bushes lie black and apparently rootless as the town's iron-gate bridge collapses under the centre part of the main road.
...

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-...

Six owlets sitting in a tree,
six cats in effigy,
six of both in a boat
the leeward lives in Innisfree.

Six women marching
through a park,
six lanterns at rest
six cauldrons to...

Artists (astrologers never lie)
are birthed when
Venus is rising -
not against cat's whelp
(eye of newt, tongue of frog)
calamitous mist or London fog;
far, ferny forbidding fenn.
...

The sea is a requisitioned article in my possession.
Above, in fat circles of conformity, glide
turkey vultures, their combs
a rich obscenely red.

The guano rocks are isles and stepping stones...