Sunday, October 20, 2013

Arthur, Dead

Arthur, Dead

Upon this slope of Mt. Etna
a rocky haze of black dust, lust
for life at closing time; sublime,
the baroque gesture beckoned

but trees just grow, regardless.
Every moment, after a certain age,
can either be a consummation or
a capitulation, again, to time.

I’ll never love enough to cover up
this hole Aeolus blew into my loosen-
ed Tooth—I never did make my peace
, either, with the goddess at Erice. I lost

all my emotional equilibrium
and cried and cried and cried and cried
“Don’t beat me anymore, my mommy.”
I’ve learned too many lessons now

to give it up.


Tuesday, October 15, 2013

Catania Collective

The verve of all this black-
ened stone, dormant dome,
o’ cucchiti; lay down

thy vanity, prof.,
thy vanity of the curious
and nervous gesture to play

remembering all this stone
porous, black, and burnt,
an earth that moves through agency:

domus dominion domination,
associations of threat
and assassination, finding freedom

in a collective.
To tell the truth, the Mafia is
a fascist plague in socialist

times, a military ent-
erprise in private hands,

and ticking. I remember:
the ancient city below the street,
two swans, one black and one was white.


Friday, September 27, 2013


"Morpheus" is a poem from my collection Sojourner set to image. Do you have your copy yet? Click here. Or buy it at Paperback Exchange in Florence or at Green Apple Books in San Francisco.

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

At the Stork Club

Me performing at Paul Corman-Roberts series "Crows in the Stork's Nest" at the Stork Club in Oakland, CA on August 14th, 2013.

For a full Write-up and film of the entire event see this page of the LITSEEN Blog.

Monday, September 9, 2013

Death Trap Bachelor pad

I lost you, Stella,
in icicles, overburdened,
you collapsed, hearing horns
in unheralded cold.

For you pointed North,
Pole-ward you pointed,
a five-sided arrow

of non-directional desire.
The furniture, damnit,
wants your blood;
you beat it off with a stick.

I won’t be here in the morning.


An Update

It's been a long, hectic and wondrous summer focused upon publicizing, launching, and performing from my first published book of fiction and poetry, Sojourner. So much emphasis on travel and performance--and now the preparation for a second book I hope to publish this coming spring--meant not much new creative work posted here. Now that I'm back in Florence ("Tanned, rested, and ready" as Dan Aykroyd's Nixon) I should be back to my work-in-progress with new tales soon. In the meantime, I'm now writing a literary column and reflections on books for Florence News and Events, and English-language newspaper here in Italy. You can read three (count 'em, THREE!) articles by me here on page 27. As always feedback and/or suggestions welcome--what have you read about Italy lately that might interest my readers?

Also, coming up, I'll be Inaugurating The Florence Writers and St Mark's Cultural Association's first literary season with the inimitable M. Elizabeth Evans at 6:30 PM on Monday, September 16th, upstairs at St. Mark's English Church at Via Maggio, #16 in Florence, Italy. Drinks and nibbles will be served and a festive atmosphere guaranteed. Hope to see you there! (I'll be reading from Sojourner and I'll be happy to sign one for you!)

Friday, July 5, 2013

Reading / Book Signing

My West-Coast book promotion tour begin this coming Thursday evening at Green Apple Books in San Francisco. I will perform texts from Sojourner in the spirit of artistic anarchy with my trusty Dada drum. Come have a glass of wine, say hello, listen, shout back, sing along, and get a book signed.

Saturday, June 22, 2013

A Poem for the Past

Naugahyde remains, sometimes
lost childhoods retrieve
old world series victories

when we win a tough
one. The sun is enough
sometimes to spark

that Proustian reflex
Pontifically infallible
of knowing who you once


Spokane, WA

Friday, April 26, 2013

Performance of "Lubbock Elegy"

Captured reading "Lubbock Elegy (For Billy Boy)" from Sojourner, at the Meykadeh LibreriaCaf√© in Florence, Italy on April 18th 2013. 

Thursday, February 14, 2013

A Valentine

“Her body is the shape of my hands.” –Paul Eluard

My Galatea, smooth and warm
as sandstone in her palms
and firm fingers caressing,
sculpts me each and every
day with her curved and slender
presence. Venus has no auguries
,neither pearl nor rose, to prove
if I were worthy of her chisel
against my stony heart
not yet come to the apex
of the wheel.


Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Disquiet Memory-Suggestion

Asleep, a child
I wrestled her
once, for you --
I wrestled with you once
for what? Love?
no more wrestling
for her. No more
wrestling for me.


Wednesday, January 30, 2013

After the Law

I do not see you, for I am not allowed to look at your differentiated, individual faces. Looking you in the eye is not necessary to my address and would be superfluous to my sense of decorum. By speaking, which is all that I ever do, I am making the rules. Therefore I am blindly addressing an audience of phantoms, an imaginary, undelimited mass denying the presence of any rarefied individual. In this, however, you escape me and flee; you get into trouble and you refuse to conform to my preemptive norms. For better or for worse. You escape your destiny and my mediation of your place in the crowd.

Another January poem


A comfortable, daily rain
undramatically dormant
cold season of drizzle

in an evocation of derailed
trains, missed appointments
and cement sandtraps.

I miss the oleanders, the eucalyptus
of the California coast, the cliffs
of a sea not worth swimming

in a city not worth destroying;
there just might be one or two
here of the just worth saving.