Flooding in NJ

Lovely day for an ice-gray deluge,
for knee-deep pins and needles
and erosion.
Sand is the ugly dust--what difference does it make?
Stupid shit.

Hike over the war; the machines look like crumbs.

I should have said something.
Touching your thigh.
I did not handle that as well as I should have.
I could have gone further and said something sooner.
Sharing the blame.
I wanted to crumble.
Another title that doesn't belong to me.

You know I'm feeling so generous today.
I love to play games.

Maybe it’s not interesting to you to be part of history.

That’s the way I was.

Running and book in the evening.

You’re not that guy anymore.

You always think you’re that guy,

molded by age.

Now people know.

Outside in the courtyard, looking for the moon.

We all gave up because we couldn’t find her.

Stop hiding, it’s just a game.

In the garden with Martha

Do you want really wild looking things?

A beautiful photograph. I want them right by me.

The principle of a lollipop,

they'll come back and back,

the trumpets of lovely regalia.

Autumn blooming naked ladies,

no leaves,

no nothing,

blown-back heads,

deep purple lips.

Daffodil will do it best.
Nothing you do can stop this thing flowering.

Crocus, these easy things
Martha planted and planted.
All the lillies. Prepared the bed.

Anemones, sunny slopes.

Young gardener walked the property.

Casablanca, high fragrance, upward scales

stalking, bone-meal and roots.

My hands are heavy.

Autumnal Nadir

I know your vertebrae,
the character of your flesh and freckles.
I've watched you sleep
and saw your eyes as Venus traps,
beautiful lashes
that waited to consume
the part of me
that equated to nagging/useless insects.
If I tilted my head,
they smiled at me.

Pretending we both died,
my tongue will forget
about the curl and throat.
I could shed my years like winter coats,
taunting the frost.