Jove Protected by Geese
Excerpts

David His Ten Thousands: A Psalm

Those were not foreskins only I
hurried back to you. My stupid
faith in you, my love of fame, guid-
ed that sacred blitz, and the wry
circumnavigation by my
bloodied knife of one full hundred
valiant Philistine cocks. By God,
you named them Gentile, and worthy

to die. So be it, Lord Saul. Bill
to my account their young widows,
their orphans and their plundered man-
hoods. Seal my curse. But know that, when
they wake to battle you in Hell,
I will lead them all, covenant Jews.

Lacrimae Corporis Christi

You asked about
the iteration of sounds by
children and idiots,
the sensible

speech of adults
canted into nonsense. My si-
lence, your violation.
Drinking tea at

the window I
watch you, outside, your arms up to
the elbows in compost,
yellowing snags

of onion on your cheeks.
Reconfiguring the decay.

1996 © 2003