March 2009

It needn’t be tinder, this juncture of the year,   
a cigarette second guessed from car to brush.   

The woods’ parchment is given   
to cracking asunder the first puff of wind.   
Yesterday a big sycamore came across First   
and Hawthorne and is there yet.   

The...

Because he was as hard to handle   
As truth, which we equate with light,   
Go somewhere dark and hold a candle   
For Alan Sullivan tonight.

We were sitting there, and   
I made a joke about how   
it doesn’t dovetail: time,   
one minute running out   
faster than the one in front   
it catches up to.   
That way, I said,   
there can be no waste.   
Waste is virtually eliminated.   

To come back for a few...