Washing the stones: selected poems from 1970 to 2007

The father I never met.

The birthday girl.

Dad revisited.

"Red light, green light

-Hope to see a ghoul tonight".

Fare the well,

Spider.

Car ride with Mama, May Day, 1957.

Harem-scarem: friend of my youth.

Fox River morning.

Too rich and too thin.

The Godforsaken Sixtieds.

Bowery time.

Writing calluses.

The first morning.

January, 1970.

Solitude.

For dear life.

Listening to you listening to me talking to myself.

Big black river swamp.

We.

Aquarius.

Deathwish.

Magnolia blossom, straight up, water chaser.

Catfish catch.

Sweet chariot.

White pine.

Blackberries.

Everything that grows blooms.

115 degrees in the shop.

Mississipi born and bred.

Bucket head.

Schizophrenia with features of unrequited love.

Washing the stone.

For love of your bones.

Nothing but blue skies.

Butterfly kiss.

Under the blanket.

A wedding in June.

Waking up carefully.

Snapshot.

The old woman and the tree.

Heavenly dust.

Daily bread.

Elegy on walking through the empty halls of a mental hospital soon to be condemned.