Practice

Friday, 17 November 2017

I did not let my son hug me
because he did not ask

I watch him with the other
children practicing Gong Bu

spindling limbs learning
those constant corrections

then Ma Bu aches their legs
these bodies young horses

grown eager
he quick bows and

runs to hug me, again
I refuse him

because he did not ask
first first

of all the things
I don’t want to do is

not hug my son
he has always been

both archer
and arrow like me

he is a wreck of tears and
fire Kung Fu he says

calms his mind he
needs a hug and

when I ask
he refuses

we are never at war
we are more at work

in wilds full of errant wind
chamfering together

our best honest voices
learning to ask the ground

with each fresh step
how best to walk upon it

Something in the hills is angry

Friday, 1 September 2017

I am deaf but for rumbles and blind but
for the way the night lights when I strike the ground
I am outside searching deep into black fractal hills for the drum
summoning. A great spirit is awake tonight and haughty.
I am some beast long-chained attempting a great labor
The sky furrows and crouches on the ridge-lines
and nothing will hear me yell as I stalk amid the pines
I am bravado shaking trees and slapping the wet red earth
I have seven league boots and a peacock’s tail but
everything in the dark is much larger than me

I am awake inside a drum 
I am asleep inside a drum
I am rent haggard and
something in the hills is angry and enjoying this

Behind me
in the dark
my son sleeps
dry and uneaten

he wakens
to bright and resinous air a
strange lightning in his eyes

Manual

Monday, 12 September 2016

I held 
hurt
birds

I held 
handfuls 
of orphan mice

I held
a lame
rabbit kit
shrilling

I was a small
child
beholding
small things

I was a small
god
holding 
fearful congregations

I keep learning 
that
love cannot
be held

only empty
hands
can do the 
work

Two Nights Only

Tuesday, 26 July 2016

Check out these great photos that Cleveland Public Library took while I was downtown this summer writing poems for their First Folio exhibit!

Free Poetry for Shakespeare

Tuesday, 28 June 2016

The Cleveland Public Library asked me to come do Poetry 4 Free in the Eastman Reading Garden on a couple of dates this summer as part of their celebration of the Folger Shakespeare Library First Folio exhibit.

I had fun — it’s been a couple of years since I was downtown writing poetry on the fly for folks, but I pretty much took right back to it. I wrote 11 Shakespeare-​inspired poems in 2 hours. Folks could either give me a favorite passage, or pick from a few that I had selected.

Por ejemplo:

Some folks had no idea who Shakespeare was, and others related horrified anecdotes from college. A few people just grabbed a quote and took off without letting me write a poem for them. Everybody seemed like they were having a good time.

When the Cavs Won It All

Sunday, 19 June 2016

What will I remember about today,
in this city
that takes every punch,
unflinching, on our chins;
that rises up from every blow,
standing tall, cut-mouthed
against the world?

I'll remember
that this day is like
every other day
this city working doubles
while you slept on it
this city skipping vacation
to get the job done
this city, laconic, intractable
where we bow to no king
no, not even our own
this city of redemption
where we always welcome our sons home

Today, today
is for 
                YOU 
to remember:

this city can always say it left it all on the floor
this city where every stand is a last stand
this city where we pull for each other, exchange 
blood-stained grins
and sing loudest for the unsung.

You had forgotten
what we've always known
Cleveland is the city
filled with champions
and tomorrow, 
we get back to work.

Legerdemain

Friday, 25 September 2015

            spiderweb flag // on fog flagpole
  porcelain vase of beasts // in rare inks
     huge cube of concrete // speckled egg inside.
             backwards map // for a maze of mirrors
                onion skin // atop onion skin
              time be // tween star // light
             pond of rocks // pond of rocks
           a pond of rocks // upon whose
         foundation a shat // ter rain falls
        and while you were // reading this
      catercorner, edge of // eye, peripheral
                  we sneak // on rat feet
               on rat feet // scuttle scaffolds
               to build or // crash or crash
               we the loud // est shout
           millennia built // magician hands
                  reckless // calculation
        papier-mâché masks // watercolor thunderstorm
           monster fearing // above the bed
         myth minted daily // god cowering
               about women // god? or just
                           // men