To Box With Man

          -for Eric Alleman

He works at
the Record Exchange.   I didn’t
know this until I
saw him there.

I knew him despite
his lost
play-off beard.   He did not
know me.

   He was not
friendly, this man of intent
gesture.

His voice:
   a thumb
   holding your face
   to the wall.

Outside
        you hear something

   howling.


I’m writing poems about poets I’ve seen in Cleveland. They’re meant to be read in the reading styles of aforementioned poets.