Old Mama

Cold Mama
…land strays

Bowery dime
broke sill

—toss
crime cousin

buckled pink
Spalding ball

“rays’ tunneling analogous
clock terracing”;

cross-tread –
Fourth (Ave.) slog.

The Crying

Wasn’t was not ceased,

abnegation of
doomed dirigible,

so I said
it asway,

to safety.
Your face, ash

accursed purse
of an abecedarian

jungle
pox. Slack,

sepia sonatas
set

pro rata,
the clapboard

war vibrations. Lavish
celebrant, split

aye’d shedding
martyr;

pretty, in love.

Flat Edge

Ever puttered
hollering, corner

achievement for
a liminal instant.

I was implored, under
raft of shadow

looms no Cybelene,
the subtle verve

just then receivable.
Trace outlandish,

park arts tell
a tale of uncouth

foragers: seized out-
of-scheme; I obey

time portraits,

Reuben and brethren
at hand, kyphotic

harbors a fragrant
glare; this inflection

gets it good: pitched
aurality, light wonder.