I sit in bed beside you, shearing,
Heating pad set to medium;
You say I couldn’t handle more.

You’re looking for work.
I’m reading about poets in

Meanwhile, your fingers ricochet
Like ants across the keyboard;
Pfizer has some jobs in La Jolla.

I don’t want to reach over and fuck you
Nor use my teeth to puncture your pliant neck,
How glorious to be at peace

Despite all the canned blue passion
Radiating my brain, our out-there gray
Lives, like the promise of snow.

Pain always produces logic, which is
very bad for you. That’s not my line
But it’s a good one and applies here;

Women are bred for pain, they’ve got it
In them. The trick is to realize not everyone
You think is a woman is, my friend. It is dark

Now. The weather report predicts snow overnight
And it is rare the weather report is wrong
Anymore. Four to six inches. This poem

Is about fucking. Or not fucking. Or refusing
To write in bedclothes
with blood.

Family Happiness (Nondidactic)

Wikipedia Poem, No. 572


“Overture of my voice like the flash of bats. / The hyena babble and apish libretto. // Piscine skin, unblinking eyes. / Sideshow invites foreigner with animal hide.” from Cathy Park Hong’s ‘Zoo’

they move today as was written   hold that sound
against one of

they move   today   dog hyper-aware   and read by complex formations
me she or   has gone

they   move today   perspicuous improvisational solo
explain more clearly   

they move   today it is being written   
hold it against one's   patience

they   move   today   for difference radiates 
one of us   curious dog

Poets Reading the News publishes ‘Agraphia’


“Car 5”

A great poetry website, Poets Reading The News, has published another one of my poems, Agraphia, along with one my recent photos, Car 5 (above).

I’m extraordinarily fond, and proud, of this poem. It’s about the way that war and violence affect one’s humanity.

It begins with a quote from Gabriele de’ Mussi, a historian of sorts, who gave one account of the beginning of the black plague in Europe in the mid-14th Century.

He tells of the siege on Kaffa (now known as Feodosia in Crimea) in which the Mongols launched the rotten flesh of their own sick and infected soldiers over the city walls in order to weaken the defending forces — an early version of biological warfare.

Please read and share it. You mean the world to me.

Thanks for being a part of this crazy project.

— Joe

Belted Kingfisher


By substituting X for their name
We begin to blue-grey a flicker rate
Between eyes, nose, ears and mouth.

The subject doing the describing,
For instance, receives big panicked gulps
And must not be allowed to employ simile
Without supervision—

How liberating!

Now, let’s consider X a revolutionary—
Stephen Dunn once wrote as much
While withering for cash.

If X died today, the sun and the moon
Would finally receive their answer:
A torn sheet of paper
for both celestial bodies:

Grim, graceful and surreal;
A canyon of sugar skulls,
Oh! the lightcycle enfolding forever
Like endless dough.

X insists
They need not be

X’s interdisciplinary epigram, anyway,
Inspired (which?) Dickman’s monograph 52 years on,
The latter being more studied yet
Significantly less erudite
Than the former, who cannot
Will not make up their mind
But will resolve to vacillate endlessly.

Do be you
Of Coke.

X is one of the park’s rarest
And least conspicuous trees.

Found only on dry ledges of the summit,
X is little more than a shrub.

X is not a belted kingfisher
Despite their harsh and rattling call.

X is silly and not as
Handsome as you remember.

When Christ arrives,
X is surprised.

Wikipedia Poem, No. 371


“I do not think of you lying in the wet clay / Of a Monaghan graveyard; I see / You walking down a lane among the poplars / On your way to the station,” from Patrick Kavanagh’s ‘In Memory of My Mother’

for Bernie

lying in the end        of you          are all mad     and       we cattle—among the cattle—among the can walking along you are   all    made and we cattle—among the poplars on a lane along you say don’t forget the bargains are all made and we cattle among the rich with life—and you meet me and you lying down a fair     day          by accident after the wet clay for it is a       harvest evening down a summer sunday—you       smile        up the bargains are piling along           the end of you lying in the wet clay for           it is a headland we   are all mad    and you walk    among the ricks against         the end of you smile up the end of repose

Wikipedia Poem, No. 98

Un halo vaporeux trouble le corps de la femme assoupie et de la granulation de la pénombre paraît émaner le grain de sa peau sur le parquet flotte le lueur de ses souliers vernis — Jean-Pierre Chambon

Un halo vaporeux trouble
le corps de la femme assoupie
et de la granulation de la pénombre
paraît émaner le grain de sa peau
sur le parquet flotte la lueur
de ses souliers vernis
— Jean-Pierre Chambon


grows only to 
      		Ophrys apifera longicornis male 
         bee It 
the Caucasus  Its ranges surround 
         in autumn 
    The name Ophrys 
      apifera generally grows on semi-dry turf in the Hodbarrow 
  slowly during in Ayrshire in the north Africa and Ireland similar 
to grows only 
self-pollen transfer occurs 
          in the 
       to the Hodbarrow slowly during 
     in autumn  Thelabellum is a perennial 
dunes that mimics the UK  it was the 
hairy late 
with a 
     centially brow  white 
   copulation  but 
laterally grows to be found in they are unusual in the Greek word ophrys 
     apifera genus O


          1936  That year  the national 
    or Christmas orchid is 
        blue and red
       in November of 
  the has 
above sea 
level in November 1936 
That year  the 19th 
      where it 
was named as the 
n = 40 the same was 
          made for two 
		The Colombia 
it was 
n = 40 the has 
     after the Orchid is 
       yellow blue 
      red in the same way 
as the 
          determined after 
         flowering to the most representative 
   flower or Christmas orchid is a plant belonging plant belonging plant 
of Cattleya 
      trianae Lindl &


      witches used to 50–60 centimetres 
      above sea level
  It grows in Shakespeare and 
cylindrica Algeria 
          Psithyrus and in northwest Africal to 
Checklist of height green Finland Great Britain
   Norway Sweden
        Britain Norway 
   Sweden sometimetres and in northwest 
Africal shepherds 
         give a grows 
   northwest Africa Algeria Spain Norway Sweden Finland 
         Norway Sweden Finland Great 
Britain Norway 
Sweden Finland 
        Britain Norway Sweden 
       Ukraine together 
    specklist of Russia in northwest 
Africal tra


  • biolib. “Eucera cineraria Eversmann, 1852.” Photographs. 1 August 2015.
  • Chambon, Jean-Pierre. Tout venant. Paris: Centre national du livre, 2014. Print.
  • Wikipedia contributors. “Ophrys apifera.” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, 11 Jun. 2015. Web. 1 Aug. 2015.
  • Wikipedia contributors. “Cattleya trianae.” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, 23 Jun. 2015. Web. 1 Aug. 2015.
  • Wikipedia contributors. “Orchis mascula.” Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, 16 Apr. 2015. Web. 1 Aug. 2015.

“To Giovanni da Pistoia When the Author Was Painting the Vault of the Sistine Chapel, 1509”

I have already grown a goiter in this drudgery—
As water does to cats in Lombardy,
Or in whatever other region it may be—
Which forces my belly to hang under my chin.
I feel my beard skyward, and memory
On top of my coffer,and my chest like a harpy’s;
And on my face all the while the brush
With its dripping makes a rich pavement.

My loins have entered my paunch,
And I turn my arse into a croup for a counterweight,
And I take steps vainly without my eyes.
My bark stretches out in front,
And from wrinkling in back, is all knotted,
And I strain like a Syrian bow.

Thus fallacious and strange
Rises the judgment which my mind carries;
For one shoots badly through a crooked blowpipe.

My dead painting
Defend now, Giovanni, and my honor,
For I am not in a good place, nor am I a painter.

— Michelangelo Buonarroti (1509)
Translation by Luciano Rebay