Dearest man-in-the-moon, ever since our lunch of cheese & moonjuice on the far side of the sun, I have walked the craters of New…

In Autumn, as in Spring, the sap flows, the sap wishes to race against heartbeats

For Naomi Lazard Sometimes I can’t wait until I… —Naomi Lazard My friends are tired. The ones who are married are tired

I am happiest near the ocean, where the changing light reminds me of my death & the fact that it need not be…

I try to keep falling in love if only to keep death at bay.

I pass to the other side of the pa… —Pablo Neruda On the other side of the page where the last days go, where the lost poems go,

You sleep in the darkness, you with the back I love & the gift of sleeping through my noisy nights of poetry. I have taken other men into my tho…

Rising in the morning like warm bread, from a bed in America, the aroma

What happens when the juice of the… drenches you with its lemony tang, its tart swe… & your whole body stings with… so that your toes sing to your mou…

Because my grandmother’s hours were apple cakes baking, & dust motes gathering, & linens yellowing & seams and hems

This is the dirty laundry poem– because we have traveled from town… accumulating soiled linen & sw… & blue-jeans caked & clott… & teeshirts crumpled by our gl…

There is only one story: he loved her, then stopped loving her, while she did not stop loving him.

I sit at my desk alone as I did on many Sunday afternoons when you came back to me, your arms aching for me,