Last Chance Glance

Since my partner in blogging Mike was kind enough to introduce me by quoting various of my reviews, I shall respond with a poem. First, let me clarify that I eschew the current use of cant, buzzwords, and academic jargon. So I shall introduce my poetry with the following few words.

In my poems I strive to inscribe the fragmentation of my identity function in that space where form diverges from function. I seek to inscribe into the position of privilege the hitherto muted halves of irruputed binary oppositions. It is my struggle to force the mouth of my imagination to swallow the tail of my memory. I gnaw at the bars of the prisonhouse of grammar. My meters are a proletarian revolution. My rhymes arrest themselves with the ecstasies of torture.

Last Chance Glance


Stare straight out--
The calendar bequeaths its forgetfulness,
Leaves crease the sidewalks like slugs,
And I am on vacation from nothing.
My breathing takes place of the place
I confounded for my brethren last year,
Before they showed up to hunt me down.
My associate calls out to me, a lost sheep
That should never come out of the rain
Even when the last of the weather is rain
And all the world is losing its shape,
Forgotten laundry left on the line to drown
In the sun now that our dates are in arrears.
I join the planets in their drawn-out chase
In the dark, some light years where the birthing
Of a new system arises, shrugs
Itself into a light-spun artfulness,
And sputters out.