Tracey McTague
cutting off chicken
heads
preserves oneÕs Òquant aÕ soiÓ
something pithy enough
something he knew he
had missed
unattainable &
improbable
the complete vision of
all that he 'd lost
his fondness for
gambling & wildflowers
humbles all indignity
of domestic felicity
for poisoning his wifeÕs bastards
so meanly housed
her handÕs embroidery in the light & a likeness of her
on paper
bits of wreckage
possessed for now
21 cents lucky
For two dimes & a
penny
the captain bought Òthe idle richÓ
An urban nuisance
to accumulate &
measure ignominy
against prodigious
manipulation
Tijuana bans the
monkey
a May-December type of
affair
for a hardmouthed man
in a lucky barber chair
Salty
translucence for a good cut
his progressive
invisibility
among hotwalkers in
the dusk
She spoke only the
vernacular of soft sounds
nostos
A king sensitive to
the seasonÕs cycles
expects frequent
visitors
Freedom of the
liberated nose
& other dethroned
monuments
Swans shot by the
racemosas
everlasting moss
abiding
Disposable masks
for disguised priests
Homecoming for
elevator ladies
conversations of
liftyorsha
A scandal unfit
for faithful old beaus
The gatekeeper removes
his hat
they live together
with sweet science
Totus tuus
not exactly the world
but a closer approximation
Mind Instructions
barely a limb or so
above the line
into a semblance
of varied notes
all inside
the outline of fruit
brings news
of old vines
into forgeries written
for a wedding
live feed of cemetery
cities thus divided
obey esteem
discontented with the
empire
fatigue alights
into a glass eye
looking out
reflecting cartoon
a feather
a brief history of a
shoe
and the foot therein
misfortune disdainful
more luxury than socks
his miserly
indifference for glass
to persuade them of a
thing
all dangers met
on a new road
the captain
is not dead
dawn of fanatical tonic
I fear so
happy enough
some foul puppet on a
stand
in a glazed future
ruined
by misdeed
pardon our appearance
while we inhabit this
exquisite raiment
a natural consequence
a sign
a slow moving thing
a wounded thing on the
floor
just an empty pageantÕs shadow
& sham flung into
substance
to be curiously
listless
is divinity in beauty
beyond vision
it is the faithless
who know
radiance in surrender
a part of them
hollowed into a
perfect pearl
the chattering of evil
houses
in a finer world