Tag Archives: Len Kuntz

So much disintegrates when we sleep Dreams are just a disguise A hoax to keep us distracted You were saying his name again The moon and I heard it From where we hung suspended above this bed Congratulations. You have … Continue reading →

I am giving away pieces of myself outside A bus terminal when an old woman Asks, Do you know how dangerous that is? The birds peck out my eyes for free A cabbie collects my baguette legs like A Parisian … Continue reading →

You’ve been gone a while So likely we’ll have sex tonight Lots of extra body fluids spilled Some good old-fashioned bed-shaking It’s always the same after you’ve been away— Your need for a naked toy But all I really want … Continue reading →

There is a split in your lip that Wasn’t there before And you are trying to hide Inside a bathrobe with the collar turned up When breakfast wasn’t made I knew It’s always the same signs The nervous finger tap-tap-tapping … Continue reading →

You are running out of people to save Even the mailman is looking healthy Yesterday it was a nun with a sprained ankle The day before your grandpa Lester’s wounded heart Once yourself from choking on a chicken bone If … Continue reading →

I am looking for you in the fog Which slides across the lake Like the white breath of a misguided dragon I am groping and flailing Calling your name Walking across water Slipping on ice Fighting an unsteady current As … Continue reading →

The sea no longer shimmers And every dinghy has left for shore On the beach I watch crows fight over the husk Of a discarded ice cream cone You haven’t spoken in an hour The novel you’re reading must really … Continue reading →