Photo Poems

Any Abyss (after Baudelaire)




Under the Pier

Sous les pavés, la plage


We walk in the temple

subterranean hang-out

of every tatterdemalion spirit         under the stones                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                Belonging doesn’t matter here

pilgrims carve their truths in concrete pillars

observe shifting angles                    inverted perspectives

we may or may not remember

absences filled with light




     Something, Nothing



Reaching into light    we grasp nothing

remembrances    quiet as the heart’s lake

stir this solstice eve       I sense

a quiet influence settling

into those depths of me

fragments  coalesce

your face      becoming         mine

in the movement of the wind




    ungeheuren Ungeziefer

(After Kafka)

                haunted you like love lost

  those many little legs  kriechen over ceiling   walls

                                        manifestation of

                                                   how you    sold yourself

                                         how  we

                 trade spines for exoskeletons


                                 Hard to imagine in 1950

                   all those long years  of surveillance


                                                on the thrones of fallen dictators

                                                                            your face everywhere

                        Once    in the crooked house on Goldsmiths’ Lane

                        a tourist turned away

for speaking your name