Thursday, December 1, 2011

The Gout You Need

My homophonic translation of Baudelaire's Le Gout du Neant

Mourning spirit asteroid moves. The late latte
expires. Do not leprosy artistic tone. Order a
new vault and enforcer. The couch toy's sand powder
views Chevrolets. Do not let spies attack bought obstacles.
Resign toy, moon color; doors too similar to break.

Spirit veins, forbid. Poor toy, viewed the marauder's
glamour nap and the gout. Squash the dispute.
"Farewell dunce," chants the curve of soupier flutes.
Please, kneel tinted on color and somber at the boulder.
Pretend adorable pardons, Son.

Eat the temporary, engulf minute-by-minute.
Come late night immense encore. Press the reader.
Contemplate, then halt the globe and say rounder.
Eat the New York jet. Church and labor doom cahoots.
Avalanche, "view the Emperor then shoot."

Wednesday, October 12, 2011


their secret supplanted

society with

rumored resemblance


elk’s elaborate cave

divulged young twins–

their physically devoted

honorary champions


Wednesday, September 28, 2011


Our master mind
the departed dean.
He slurred smoke pearls
through his bronze hand gland,
his heavy lungs
The old civilian,
hours killed,
adrenal elders
The star stroke shot
"pleasant combat"
on this flying earth
quake tour.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Beach Boy

A boy walks the beach

With his head held high.

Sand dunes out of reach

And gulls in the sky.

Behind him a fence

And wire is tangled.

The parents he rents

Left his lunch on the table.

From his elbow a pale

Does swing back and forth.

The red shovel is frail

From digging deep in the Earth.

The grass has grown long

Like the dog days of summer.

The boy walks alone

‘Till the waves take him under.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

noble chanter

take your feeding tube out
let you be parched of mouth

time to get up my little boy
time to see the world's joy

the boldest chanter in the bunch
noble chords he struck with love

i've got you in my pocket
you're alright
you've got me in your pocket
i'm alright

bright red hair
socks to the knee
in his hand
he held a trophy

he traveled the world by sea and land
he was a well traveled man

i'm a no good samaritan
that makes you the chosen one


my father
he was a carpenter
he left me all alone
can't find my way home

he liked to play pool
under the light bulbs
he liked to drink beer
with no fear

asked me how the weather's been
i tell you it's doing fine
nothing to talk about
we're just killing time

this weight's too heavy
can't carry the cross
taxes they levy
people you've lost