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.