blackout poems vol. I

Housepainters

continuously
calculated
days long gone
repair-
ing what we could
damp moldering newsprint, in a tangle of
shutters
pale lavender
faded after
five years
spend money and time
living in
fifteen to twenty gallons of
old, dry wood. Long gone
the days of
housepainters

Treasures

All the while, I
promised never to fall in
love with
watercolor landscapes
raspy, rusty melodies
mirrors, subtle
miniatures
missing a magnifying
radio.
fickle,
cherrywood
frame,
seeming very real

The Huntsman

recall, suddenly, sharply
“The Huntsman”
he
was silhou-
etted against the
woodcut
you
sat at his desk and gazed into
luminous
trees
He was twenty years old