Sunday, November 03, 2013


                             When you turned I thought
you’ve got to stop me, I’m out of control
but mature, so every step I take
                                                      —John Ashbery

I don’t know what all I have on me
nor why.  By that same token, I have
no idea which pages I should rip out,
and which I should matte, frame
and hang on the wall.  Or I’m guessing.

Yes, in case you were unable to guess,
it’s election day again.  Tonight, I plan
to read forever to the man I married
while he paints his homework.  Which
amounts to somewhere near seventeen

sonnets, total.  I call the whole thing
Ambition.  Meanwhile, I continue
pasting old photographs of myself
into various collected works which
I find on the shelves of the university
library.  Particularly the older ones
that look practically new.