Still trying, in my intermittent way, to put up bits of writing, here and there. This poem appeared in the Volume 19 Number 2, Spring 1999 edition of the Pottersfield Portfolio, out of Sydney, Nova Scotia.
a note for sugarbones
I took down the Arbus clipping from the fridge.
I used to press my palm to it
in a drunken Saturday night prayer
but now it just leers
and I want it out of my mornings.
can stay where it is
it's consumption made all the more conspicuous
now that the furnace is cold
filled with old letters
and the resentment
of discarded guests
the boxes of guilty presents
and bundles of cunning hope
it all made beautiful blue flames for ahile
but now the wires are burned black
and none of that works anymore
I want to walk through my week
like a gentleman, enlightened by the grace
of your trembling lips