Umbriate Press Poetry

Père UBU screwed –Père UBU. –No! –Butt Tubby! –Yes! –Make me a fat poem, please. –Right. I call this one “ME.” O is de rain drop-O-let Of all pOems the tear Of nOthing, tOO is sad withOut the rain as me –That is good. –Your welcome. Read more

Archimedes’ Shrew Image: lips open and breath turns to seed, drops like an old hat from the slope of a tilting head. Reason: It has not rained for all time, cracked things weep for themselves, skin dries in the hollow of an empty hand. Consequence: Ever. Moral: Closed, origins may sleep but never speak while… Read more

Constant freshness of morning On the side of the mountain Along the field of slums Leaves the carriages Of wasting spirits  themselves behind a hinting time Passing under the sun Hung low and lost In the inescapable labyrinth Of age. Read more

Cloistered marrow, the syncopating drop, of illusory grace in bone and out lifts away as a limp without ever wiping the smile from its loins. Read more

vast horizon, a most sweeping apology to the slight curvature of life I call sapphophilia. Read more

Watching the unwitting the idea flutters: we are the poor. Read more