Waiting For Inspiration
Rubbing our legs, eye to eye in insecurity
we discuss the afternoon’s infinity—
me and in the middle of the room elliptically
a vagrant symbolist buzzing figure eights.
The housefly parks—wings closed, a hieroglyph—
halfway down the ceiling lamp’s hanging braid.
Child Need Not Grow Up To Be Prez
Good body, captive to the prosperous self
whose virtue is momentum. Everyone is happy
or at least files good reports. Oh, they cost!
stroke crowd, slip gifts, thumb-type, grin.
But to reach the disaffected? Try
the striking figure in that mirror:
at the top
below skull’s center crack
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