The Man Who Wished on All the Wrong Things

I’ve wished a hundred thousand
stars -
taillights
on passing cars

On bottle caps
and flickered glows
through window panes
of TV shows

On broken bits
of cookie crumbs
and salt I rubbed
off of my thumbs

On eggshells
and neckbones
and bluebells
and headstones

On pennies dropped
through sewer grates
and signs that welcomed
me to states

and tears I wiped
onto my sleeves
and mission bells
and maple leaves;

I mailed them to
the wrong address
without a stamp –
they’re lost I guess

But now and then I wonder
when I wished ‘em, where they went
and if they’re as sad as I am
that their magic got misspent.

Litany of Laredo

Hail Mary
full of grace
rubbing dirt
into her face
through the plaster
pale and stark
our mother’s face
is glowing dark

Father please forgive me
if a question
is a sin
but when Jacob
pinned the angel
did the angel
let him win?

Hail Mary
full of dread
fleeing when
your husband said
the slaves return
as transients
our mother pawned
the frankincense

Father please forgive me
if I slept
while you were praying
but I lost an ear
to fervor
and I can’t hear
what you’re saying

Hail Mary
full of tears
kept him safe
for thirty years
and made of him
just one request
that tore apart
the hornet’s nest

Father please forgive me
if I’ve asked you
this before
but I couldn’t be
more hungry -
could I maybe
be less poor?

Hail Mary
full of awe
storing up
the things you saw
from the blessed
to the cursed
our mother twice
beheld him first

Father please forgive me
if I can’t find
my way home;
but there’s giants
stalking Judah
and there’s lions
prowling Rome

Flash & Burn

“I think that I shall never see
A poem as lovely as a tree” -

Of course, I think, and who’d debate
A creed so clear it seems innate?

Deforestation, clear-cut hills,
Poisoned rivers, paper mills;

What kind of fool (or hypocrite)
Am I to cheerfully forget

I chop the wood, I pay the wage,
Each time I put a poem to page?

As flames roar through God’s nursery -
I’ll burn a disc (and save a tree).

Dominoes

Parading precisely the ivory shines
spiraling coils and laid out in lines
deftly designed and exactly dispersed;
everyone itches to tap on the first

First you make your way alone
then you make a friend
you make a date for Friday
you make love all weekend.

First you love the candle light
then you love the waking
then you love the offering
then you love the taking.

With barely a breath, no more than a graze
the clatter begins and a roar starts to raise
tipping and falling and speeding past stopping;
everyone loves to hear dominoes dropping

First you take some photographs
then you take the cake
then you take for granted
then you take a break.

First you break some promises
then you break a heart
then you break some dishes
and then you break apart.

Like running the wheels off a Radio Flyer
fast and as far as a telephone wire
strung up on poles, heading right out of town;
everyone leaves when they’ve all fallen down

Autumnatopoeia

In dew-strung webs the fall begins
in cardamom
cicada skins
in curling wisps
of apple air
deposing summer
unaware

let loose that fistful of balloons
to finger paint
strange afternoons
through distant color
hungry skies
in foreign wonder
hungry eyes

A certain sad September
I prefer to not
remember
a letter came
(week to the day)
still can’t open
(but I may)

every diamond left uncut
keeps its hallowed
secrets but
given over
for the grinding
casts a brilliance
worth the finding

So let this glacial winter pass;
nothing dies
the summer grass
binds her roots
beneath the snow -
just give her spring
and watch her grow

Harbinger

stone cold
hoary-skinned
gargoyle
squatting
on the ledge of a life

creased wings
empty eyes
sharp-toothed
smile

a trace
of bright perfume
hovering
in an empty
stairwell

an inflection
in a laugh
on a train
or someone
behind a door
off an alley
channeling
Charles Mingus

dark tresses tumbling down a bare shoulder
deserted payphone ringing merrily in the rain
La bohème rising wistfully
from a ragpicker
in a dumpster

a waitress drops a glass
a girl opens a button
a ten-dollar radio
spills Hank Williams
into black coffee

around the next
corner
or one street
over
or just outside
and above
any window

i am gazing
out

creased wings
empty eyes
sharp-toothed
smile