The Deepest, Fullest Bow

The Deepest, Fullest Bow

  The Deepest, Fullest Bow The bow becomes a fugue in colors swerved And woven deeper than the color wheel. The bow becomes a ballerina curved But stoops so low the swaying starts to kneel. Obeisance is required in reverence Before the altar.  Holiness requires That...

His Beautiful Son Does Not Have the Brains

His Beautiful Son Does Not Have the Brains Odysseus decides he will not die. This glares as clear to him as April light On Ithaca.  He knows this is awry So he will have to trick the gods.  Some sleight Of mental hand will come to him in time. He guesses he will have...

Ithaca, the Dull Town

          Ἰθάκη, the Dull Town Your wife is there, your two-balled heir, and hound Still true (like bone to brawn) behind his eyes Destroyed with cataracts—but his snout’s bound To ravel your armpit; he’s the surprise That isn’t surprising when you return Among the...