The Universe is Young
…Every particle of me has won the lottery,
a surprise galactic cruise
in the height of tourist season.
Poetry
Little Princes, Grown
…All our foxholes have been found out
hounds baying down the weeping wheat fields
hunters’ boots crushing soil and root.
After Goldsworthy
…He lies down and lets the rain
silhouette his form on the moist earth.This is worship of a different order
bleeding stones to dye a river red.
Mr. Extinction
…He’s been around a lot lately, shaking his robes,
making monster faces at the children.
The wife finds him antipathetic.
Mom, I Have a Few Requests for You
…Full page includes a transcript of the poem.