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It's Only TV

You've Entered Their World

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by water & wind & to these naked villagers you seem a God.


They toss you bouquets & oranges & you kiss their babies before

dawn finds you clothed


in a sparkling tie & Armani suit squatting in the muck at the edge

of the swamp


where you’ve come to gnaw the thing in your hand that drips blood

on your chest with every bite.


Is it the heart you’d stolen from the ripe baboon or it is your own heart

the one bristling with magic


that calls all to be whole again? 



Barcelona Diary
It's Mother's Day
By Dawn's Early Light at 120 Miles Per Hour
The Man With His Back To The Room
Intimacies, Prose. Poems and Stories
Homage to a Widow
It's Only TV
Improvisations - Chapbook
After Goya
Improvisations - From Contemporary Music
Mustering What's Left