a short-lived affair ghazal, contemplating Creeley & Lawrence

We met among the barren greenish grey of newly
constructed condos in their winter-ravaged courtyard

walking dogs for cash for food & rent. The greener grass
of the unexplored, or strange, as it’s defined by old

greasy men in greasy spoons who must have grown jaded
w/their wives long-resigned to boring bridge clubs, book clubs

or other gossip circles an easy enough tease
(at least for S. & me). On a mattress on her floor

we came, heard raindrops trickle out the gutter to turn

the cracked sidewalk brown. Came again. Downpour paints the town.


for a gallery curator

were you
sleeping, old friend,
when the thought-cops arrived
to commandeer our politick?
were you.