The Doorman Cometh

Put it down to the
weather. I was heading 
out to the garden when 
some lines from John 
Donne opened the door 
for me. Death be not proud, 
though some have called
thee mighty & dreadful. 

Heavy shit for such a 
mundane activity, a holy 
sonnet where what I 
wanted was something 
more along the lines of
Whistle while you work.



Why I became a painter

Only if they
could also sing

were rhythm
guitarists part

of the bands
of the sixties.

 
A Crime of Podiatry

My big toe is
bitten off by an 
angry word. It
swallows it, then 
runs away. I

call the police who
take a statement &
then take me down
to the station to 
look at mugshots.

The words they 
show me are all 
single syllabled.
I tell them that 
none of those

could have done 
it —to get pur-
chase on my toe 
the word would 
have to have had  

at least two syl-
lables. The police 
now realize they 
might be dealing 
with a master 

criminal so send 
me off to the major
crimes squad. They
have dictionaries
to look through.
 
The sight of

seen things going 
past in the air. Not 
even. The sound 
of. Enough. Comp-
rehension is akin to 
pregnancy. Not. Either. 
No need to know 
the exactitudes of
shape, of surface 
texture. Half-guessed 
sufficient. Why try & 
grasp, catch hold of, be 
weighed down by?

 
A game of Pelota

The whiter the light
the higher the 
temperature. It was
the proper name
of the Sphinx & 
could not be expiated
even though its orbit 
lay within that of 
the earth. Gods crouched
before it like dogs as the 
war dragged on, during 
which time the embryo 
refused to grow. Finally
transferred to parchment
it was then cut
with a jagged edge
so that the two parts
could be matched later
for authenticity. So true 
to nature as to preclude
alternative treatment.