Ghastly Giant

Cast in perpetual night,

nervous insects venerate

dime-size leathery hate.

Rake rust: bit of bone found,

sound 

amongst hoary dust.

Come to accurate

conclusion
and move along.

In the Rain

Atmosphere cleansing,

words resound

in the rain.

Slight splatter on sidewalk

brings syllable to focus.

Consonants charge,

rise and ring

in the rain,

atmosphere cleansing.

In the rain,

tooth and tongue

are sharpest.

It began at a funeral,

continued along quiet lane,

down the severe hill,

in the rain.

And this is what I am here to tell you,

this is what I mean to say:

The same quandary,

over and over

and over again? It's

rarely resolved, 

not even in the rain,

atmosphere cleansing,

words 

in sharp relief.

Toll Taken

She peers into mirror,

placid surface meeting stare,
blink for blink.

There's nothing she can do.

Her season, a lunar vacancy.

There's nothing she can do.

Promenades, packed in cobweb;

valentines, jarred and shelved.

Once, she tried to expunge her past.

Table turned, it's rid itself of her.

On the vesper side, lights flash.

Feral

On.

On its shelf. A stout

mocha, cobalt, amber 

fray.

Malt grist,

vaporish door.

Flares spitting

at stars, they

cannot win.

Rickety crane

swivels 

round, 

round-round:

waltz time.

Squirrels appreciate

pause, anticipate

dawn: dreams electrically

animate 

feral animal brain.

Chorus

Dresden. Helsinki.

Hiroshima. Nagasaki.

St Petersburg. Moscow.

Hanoi. Bombay.

Peking. Havana.

Algiers. Charleston. 

Santiago. Roma.

Rio. Milan.

On and on...

Brilliant in the sun!

Resilient.

Red.

Love

The watermark...

the watermark remains.

Hold it to 

light and

see!

The Long Hill

They are on their way.

Having left a quarter-hour ago,

they are on their way.

Up, up, up the long hill

bearing black roses,

a dozen black roses.

They are on their way,

into the gathering grim,

bearing a dozen black roses.

Smirking stars manifest,

animal eyes squint.

Up, up, up the long hill.

They are on their way.

Rust

I don't mind 

darkness.

No, Plutonian is ideal.

And I prefer the day 

overcast, gray

as Bucharest. 

Yes, 

that is fine with me.

These things

are fine.

These things

are fine with me.

Drear is fine

with me, Romanian eve

is fine.

Unhinged sunlight

is rust in my motor,

a stick in my eye.