The Man for You

Humanly speaking

    in no man's land.

I dance around pagans

    to have my chance with you.

Something is burning—all for nothing,

    catches the fringe of my tongue.

I run around with it:

    the kind of chance I take

    in no man's land

    to be the man for you.

Someone's Dog

Call Me

call me again when your 
youth is spent and there's no
recourse but death

when the treatment is
silent from the throne of
science on a tongue of shibboleth

when an ounce of mercy
weighs a pound of flesh
on a scale that no longer moves

then call me again
at a moment's notice
to note the ones we haven't

Dreams Don't Lie

You fumbled your cigarette,
Fear to drop a ball.
The smell purged from dreamland,
Though the smoke stood tall.
The weight of control too heavy
With which your family crawled.
Your place or mine? you asked,
Men's Group it is, I'm afraid--
         you can't use me today.

Nothing Makes

Look for the front and
Then the back, the first,
The last, sound that rhymes
With nothing--
Nothing makes a sound.