Tired of the tally of give and take,
until (worth it at last) I found your store
past the nickle and diming phases of dance.

Something's bothering the dog tonight—
the neighbor's pig, maybeit's not fair
the way they feed that thing. Your hair, under the porch

In bold black type among grayer headlines
All Time High—Maybelline Stock Hits 60,
Board Acceptance of Buyout Thought Likely.

Not male, not Jew. Impersonator, you
slink the kipa behind the Stetson, hat
the bully blond claims he wants to buy.

Save that the curtains, drawn
and held by jagged darts
arrest the light with flecks of gold

I have to tell my mother the night

is a house in which are no knives.
The heavens grow hell blue

He asks me to make his ass tight, to give
him more and thicker hair. When he seeks himself
in what gets written, it's to learn

ROCKVILLE,    Md.,    Oct.    23-5:45    A.M.
A    thirteen-year-old    at    883    Post    Oak    Road
(who    wishes    to    remain    anonymous)    began

Celan's,
meeting with Heidegger:
by John Felstiner's account

When wind blows through the high windows of his skull
he stands absolutely still. At times he recalls the horizon