Michael Mann Filmography in Rondeau Cinquain

They face the bed equals of half shadow.
They're dying to crash, immersed in oboe.
This city knows pain, a series of nerves

The One

you drive down the street
with one gallon left
go to the only bar in town
find one stool, have one beer
meet the one person 

Two Poems

I would toss Marlboros out
in the dream of discipline. Milk in a bottle heating
                                                   in the sunlight.
I prayed, likely infected
by the warm climate

It’s Possible to Be Parasitic

It’s possible to keep a secret
Eat a piece of fruit every minute

Of the day for example keep a bag of raisins
Hidden nearby or really listen

To the Piano Burning on the Beach

The piano—burning in stages and in parts—
made more complex music than earth had ever heard.
Its upright lid crashed down in an explosion
of crazy fireballs the piney woods sucked in.

What the Foot Said to the Shoe

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

Three Poems

A long time ago
A group of old white men
Sat in a wopped circle just like this
In weird worship
Trying to determine
Who or what or when God is

Not a Moat

Eventually every error is subsumed
in narrative; it’s just how things go.

Dayshift as Conduit

My mother told me I live
like a beast and like a beast

I will die. So goes the omen:
my family tree rooted in animal

Anyway

Of gnawed rawhides & commitments,
Honeymoons & light switches,

Two Poems

Bear Fight in Rockaway

Two Poems

these men
are overused, old at thirty-five, ancient

at forty. Brawls and head-butts at half court,
enlarged hearts, divine idolatry.

They Held It in Their Hands

Parallax of Diaphanous and Salt

. . . in Midwestern cul-de-sacs
I understood lingering, the right-hand self
devoted to architecture the left-hand self not
devoted to anything at all

Cleanse

There’s something in the water in the hand cream the over-the-counter vitamins the FDA has not required labeling

Swivillization

Gyotaku

uncontained even
water abandons i
tself; there is mys
tery inside migra
tion

Delenda Est Joshua

Please put your storms

back inside of me. In order for me to thrive

I must disappear entirely into the horizon

Blue Note

We packed a basket of blue speckled dishes and carried it
to the bank. My casting shade and I both heard it—a sound

like a cellarful of cellos coming from under water—the roof
of the reef—and the heavy cement bodies had the moon-

glistened surface of water that mirrors the stars and the dishes.

The Medium

At the end of this night, you will find the place to lie down

and be still at last, hosts coming alive like trees in a fairy tale