Why are all the survivors of the n… nude, as if their lifethread had d… rather than sewn them. Sans coat-f… we proceed it seems only to preced… birth to burial, are not yet here.

As much as someone could plow in o… They called an acre; As much as a person could die in o… A lifetime—

All it takes is Laura Riding’s ri… crop across my butt, and I’m off: Git-up horsie she cries astride me… I crash sweetly onto the carpet. Boredom what an esthetic,

The way the world is not Astonished at you It doesn’t blink a leaf When we step from the house Leads me to think

Time, time, time, time, the clock vaccinates us. and then even that lacks prophylaxis. Ticktock-pockmarked, stricken

Satiety help me I have inhabit of this world. Extant upon its des… to be more aimlessly fluttering at the window, to shadow all the patt… it offers each sun. In frames far…

Hair is heaven’s water flowing eer… Often a woman drifts off down her…

(Nonasyllabics) In retrospect the tragic nature of sea is a taste wept too daily, too depleted by freedom’s rupture; the eyes have other secrets to see

But if they’d give us toys and twi… parents splurge on the average kid… in fact, stacks wrapped with our n… the tree: these sparkling allotmen… guaranteed a lack of—what?—family?…

I’m charmed yet chagrined by this… As when, after a riot, my city’s s… Boarded up, billboarded over, with… Similarly, swimmingly, I miss the… And my misunderstanding doesn’t st…

Note: Tomlinson is not only a distinctive poet, but a visual artist of repute. His graphics grace the covers of many of his books. This Homage attempts to imitate his verse style, or ...

I don’t dare speak too loudly, some timbres could be fatal— that string is not too strong I think: and at times I have to breathe. Or maybe I fear

Poetry, you are an electric, a magic, field—like the space between a sleepwalker’s outheld ar…

Many decades after graduation the students sneak back onto the school-grounds at night and within the pane-lit windows catch me their teacher at the desk

‘My age, my beast!’ - Osip Mandel… On the lips a taste of tolling we… The light drifts like dust over fa… We wear masks on our genitals You’ve heard of lighting cigarette…