If you drove a Camaro
Or a Z-28
On the Rock of Gibraltar
Or the Isle
They might think you’re a star
Or the prince’s cousin
But out on Long
They’re a dime a dozen.
"Relativity" was published in The Columbia Review,
Vol. 80, No. 1, 1999.
Glaser Safety Slugs
A mercury tip – we all know what that does to a melon,
said he’s seen a .357 bounce off a windshield.
No doubt, the Devastator’s a complete misnomer,
you gonna be some cowboy running in with a .44?
Say you’ve got an armed felon holed up in a house
you have to board a crowded 747;
Better still, you’re on the plane at altitude
Then the shit hits the
fan – now what are you gonna do?
Glaser Safety Slugs, guaranteed one hit, one drop,
suspension of #12 shot.
No ricochets, no strays tearing through cabin walls;
Massive penetration: only your
Not the pilot cowering behind him or the three kids in coach.
Forget about dumdums, put those in
"Glaser Safety Slugs" was published
in Cimarron Review, No. 131-132, Spring/Summer 2000.
You rise during the commercial break to leave the
It’s behind you now, the blue and white flashes on the walls,
The coffee table where you left
your drink, a cold tumbler
With popping ice. You think: something to eat would be nice.
But you never
get there. The front door is open this August night
And, like the moths in their frenzy around the porch light,
You’re drawn to have a look. Cool evening: its summered air,
Unfiltered through the mesh screen, stirs
a nameless pang.
Outside, your field is fallow but the moon is ploughing its rows.
The crickets play – what
would you call it – their busy signal.
Across the valley a luminous cone makes its way, turning into
pair of glowing red eyes: old Moses McGovern
Comes down from the mountain. You hear an audience applaud –
Everything you want is at hand and your life is good, thank God.
And it’s not like there’s some need long-ignored,
You never got around to fulfilling; it’s all sitting in that room . . .
But the night has
a way of subsuming all nights.
And what are dreams? And why can you just as easily see
Your house narrowing
with distance as you walk alone
Through the silver-blue shadows of trees?
“Missing Person” was published in The Hudson Review, Volume LII, No. 1, Spring
The dust the mare stirred had all but settled
When I turned to see you shift
in your saddle.
As afternoon rose from dewy morning
I watched your ship slide free from her mooring.
Blue arcs atop the dining car’s pantograph –
Fireworks you missed eating pain au chocolat.
I thought: Any second now she’ll tell the driver to stop.
One hour later, and still hunched on my stoop.
All I could do once your plane had taken off
Was stare at that passage in Platonov.
“Parting's Greatest Hits” was published in Barrow Street, Summer