Back may reject

the mince of ejaculated

threats, but the arrested eye

exacts a snide pinch

among those athletes

who seek any game.
Elegy suits homecomings

as if warding off

the sailor's neck, voices

besieging the staircase's

twist. Over the spool

they slump down to breathe

simple syllables just as the moon

calves the thighs with what

you can well imagine absorbs

the traceless suppression

of all those unexplored desserts.
There is a wisp of the white hair

summer verges on its threshold

deposited there as a groan

that rhymes with the moan of hesitation's

open spiral, a fill that is to be

it seems apparent in reflection

of what bringers brought the slip into,

cupped in surprising handfuls

of an impotent seed thrust

to surface deep.
Los Angeles, 10 February 2006