Not much yet, just heated
     the wet resin--poor man's hash--
          scraped out of the charred
                               Fallopian tube,
          damp moss in the uterine bowl.

                         Clogged screen
sizzles as the chamber fills w/ clear smoke.


The Royal Mint
             on every birthday
                     of Her Highness

     strikes a new likeness
                      based on a portrait
              still drying by the time
     the die is struck

On the 75th Her Majesty is seen
                trying to catch a bus
     counting a robeful of change

            her upturned palm
     how she aged

Old coins w/ her youngest faces
                worn smooth passed through
       her subjects' hands

           the wrinkles of the newest issue
                            sharp enough
           to catch a nail


         Dangling upside down in my mother's dreams
         Like a reflection cradled in a spoon

                  I promise her an open hand
                  And all the water it can hold

          Whales beach themselves
          Because they once had legs

                            --Aleut Folk Chant

suicide man on a ledge
loses his hat to the wind
                   and for an instant

suicide man never stood here before
         wonders is it any different
                  than a curb or surfboard

         looks down past wingtips
         crowd forms a neat round hole

shoreline of a pond without reflection
                 flat as the back of a mirror
         he is the stone

                   his hat blows into the hands
                   of a homeless man who will not have it

each upturned face a birdbath
         patient with melting snow

he sees himself a coin on edge
         next to flowerpot on windowsill
a wish waiting to spend itself
         forgotten in black depths


Time lapsed photography will show
       a corpse twitching like a restless sleeper
                fidgeting through best-forgotten dreams

Time lapsed photography will show
       the skin swelling like an ocean
                for all the life thriving beneath

Time lapsed photography will show
       a generation of birds hatched, reared, and flown
                from the nest built among his ribs

Time lapsed photography will show
       the slow progress of staying in place
                tree limbs swaying on windless days

What's left last
      at a cremation?
                         I asked
the radio call-in undertaker
                         who said

      it's a common mistake
                of those new to the trade
      when the smoke seems to stop
                to smother the flame
      but when they pull out the tray
                a charred heart remains

a picture of the day production
more poems