Think what it must have been like for her, cagedin her tower, the small window cut into darkstone, the hours it took to brush and untangle her hair, waiting for

Continue readingMonday Poem: Rapunzel

It’s morning. The brown scoops of coffee, the wasp-likeCoffee grinder, the neighbors still asleep.The gray light as you pour gleaming water–It seems you’ve traveled years to get here. Finally you

Continue readingSunday Poem: Early Morning in Your Room

1In the eveninghaze darkening on the hills,purple of the eternal,a last bird crosses over,‘flop flop,’ adoringonly the instant. 2Nine years ago,in a plane that rumbled all nightabove the Atlantic,I could

Continue readingSaturday Poem: Another Night in the Ruins

“Dead Serious About Being Nonsensical” David Platzker at Artforum: Ruscha’s avant-garde proclivities surfaced in his first pagework as a member of the group Students Five, a collective of friends—Joe Good,

Continue readingThe Art Of Ed Ruscha

I think I forgot to turnoff the radio whenI left my mother’swomb In Hasidic Judaismit is said that before weare born an angelenters the womb,strikes us on themouthand we forget

Continue readingFriday Poem: Radio

Dogs are Shakespearean, children are strangers.Let Freud and Wordsworth discuss the child,Angels and Platonists shall judge the dog,The running dog, who paused, distending nostrils,Then barked and wailed; the boy who

Continue readingThursday Poem: Dogs Are Shakespearean, Children Are Strangers

He is unfit for this life, thisunduly managed era devoidof poesy and freedom, a timeof useless haste in honor ofthe illusion of progress,a life starving of life, a lifedripping with

Continue readingWednesday Poem: The Artist and His Shadow

I tell her the rye truth.We sit in the morning,dew the soil staining.She cocks her head, I can tell she is listening.Her small eyes fill with tilled earth. When I leave,she pecks the ground,searching.

Continue readingTuesday Poem: Confiding With a Hen