Seen
from behind
and overheard
on a Boston street:

she reached into her purse
and left money in an old man’s hand.
Her friend said it was a waste because
he’d only use it to buy wine.

It’s not my place to judge what he will do,
she said, only my place to choose
how I will act. What I will do
is act as it seems I should.

Small words of one syllable
picked the lock on
my hope and it creaked open
just a crack.

This is who
we really are underneath
the pale rigor we wear
most of the time.

I pray
I am this worthy
whenever I face
an open hand.

I will learn when to speak
and when to fall silent,
for doors are closing all around me
and words can’t do everything.

I say, if there’s hunger, feed it;
if there’s war, fight it;
if there’s pain, soothe it;
if there’s hate, love it.

Seen
from behind
and overheard
on a Boston street:

I wanted
to cry, but instead
doubled back
to where the old man sat.

1: You have been, unfairly in my opinion, compared to buickpoet? How do you feel about such allegations?

Who the fuck is buickpoet? I’ll cut his ass. Unless it’s a woman, then I’ll propose.

Seriously: Buick stopped making truly poetic cars years ago. I’m untroubled by such slander.

2: Does it ever get you down when you remember that the world actually ended when solipsist Allen Ginsburg died, and we’re all just kinda being stubborn dicks about it? Or do you subscribe to the radical Fredian philosophy, which states that the world ends when solipsist Fred Willard dies? Explain?

Well, as Allen once said to me, “You paid more money, so I’ll sign your book first.” (That’s actually true.) Based strictly on that, I’m leaning toward Fredianism. He’s never been crassly commercial to me.

3: Saudade: Hi-Falootin Emotion or Tasty Mexican Sauce?

I’m a big fado fan. We’re going for the emotion, hi-fallopian or not.

4: I am drinking lemon tea. Are you? If so, why not? What, you think you’re better than me…punk…

I am not. I don’t like it. Fuck you, and your little dog, too. And that goes double for me.

5: Are you slightly scared that a young poet nicknamed after a ho-down instrument has asked the four questions that cut down to the gooey center of what you may call a ‘center’?

I actually play the banjo, though not very well. I think that really says it all.