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New
Poems
To
The Surrealists
Crossing your abyss
On this wobbly line of ink—
If I slip, I’m bread.
Remembering
Ruben Gonzalez
Leaping up those stairs:
The grand flourishes of a
Piano master.
On
September 11, 2001
No words need be said:
actions speak louder than words,
free to jump, they jump.
Two words need
be said:
Execution, execute;
Loud history lessons.
On
Poetry
Here’s how a poem works:
can’t put your finger on it,
rubs you the wrong way.
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