Summer Salt

Thursday, March 30, 2017

Sitting at my desk staring off into spices
arranged on a rack nearby: cardamom,
cumin, dark shambles, estrogen.

Peppercorn. Like I don’t even know
what sage is, and you do? It’s sexist,
and I’m tired of it, and so

is everybody else. We’re weary
of being categorized according to arbitrary
criteria like what kind of car we drive.

Standing up, taking it all in with a yawn.
Who has time to canoodle
with an imaginary bank dick

that looks like a cross between Kevin
Spacey and Bert Blyleven? Not eye
will see nor ear will hear,

the famous scripture reads, when He
returns, rendering all this fruitless—
this gesture and these bootless cries.

• • •

Strunk & Pater

Thursday, March 30, 2017

All overstatement constantly aspires
to the condition of unnecessary modifiers.

• • •

Pater Abbreviator

Thursday, March 30, 2017

Art aspires
to music.

All / constantly / the condition of

• • •

Grocery Sonnet

Wednesday, March 29, 2017

As at the grocer’s she held up a Manwich
box and said “You should buy this
because you’re a man,” and I said so
should you because you’re a wich.
So she pointed to the bratwurst
and said, “or that, because you’re a brat,”
and I said so should you, you’re the wurst.
She held up a frankfurter and said I
should buy it bc my name is Frank and
I said no you should because you’re
furtive. She said that doesn’t make sense,
and I said neither does your mom.
She skulked slyly out the side door
and i never heard from her no more.

• • •


Monday, March 27, 2017

I have no regrets.
I would change nothing.
I love my children:
Should I die prematurely
may God bless them richly;
may he also bless you.

• • •

Therapy Binaries

Tuesday, March 21, 2017


Fork in the Road

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

When you come to a fork in the road,
the old joke goes, take it. Unless, as I found out
the hard way, it’s a jewel-encrusted fork
fallen from the lunch basket of a giant toad.

• • •

Gods Playing Poker

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

Pizza, like spaghetti, is a yellowish
place with meaty red circles on it and
greasy sauce intermingled with it much like
my friend Jeremy’s face in middle school
a yellowish face with red circles
and greasiness

Spoiler alert—Jeremy’s older now,
the CEO of Betterment Solutions LLC
which while it employs only two
employees both are ambient, future-
driven, multichannel and I would add
lithe and sort of cute

But to my point, or to yours,
food is basically a pale context
in which darker nuggets flourish, tease
us with their succulence until we fork or
finger them into our face vacancies
and then masticate like no one’s watching

When in fact Jeremy and his associate
are watching through a minicam
and scribbling notes with all the intensity
of several monkey behavior scientists
recently featured on NatGeo, by which
of course I mean lather, rinse, repeat

• • •

I Made This Today

Monday, March 20, 2017


Wednesday, March 15, 2017

My goal is to make no progress
or move backward to discover
what I might have been thinking
before I started thinking

anything, and to be completely
dishonest it’s going exactly
as planned: What lurks
in the Jungian precognitive

slurry not only accurately predicts
what has come to mind since
but forms the pediment
of an entire way of life,

of baking casseroles, wearing
a peculiar cabbage-colored hat,
watching intently the hula-hoopist,
falling asleep on a perfectly

Sundayish afternoon where
the pine trees creak
in a muffled breeze and Cardinals
radio can be heard crackling

at the A.M. dial’s narrowest point.
I love it, to be honest,
love this plainspokenness
and the lack of direction

that inevitably attends it,
and I also have loved you
after a fashion, have read your
flat words, fixed them in mind

as one fixes an iPhone to a dash
and then watches it while
driving down to Sarasota
on a strangely rainless morning.

• • •