• October 2005   Jacket 28       Contents
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There is Bowering

Standing in the light
where i can see him
blank eyed

in black pajamas
those huge glasses
that mustache



Bowering

Isn’t it obvious, kid?



George on a Bike

We read that in the seventies
My God! It was refreshing



Mountains are Somebody’s Back Yard

You may look out & wonder,
was that all there was
& nothing more —

this singular length of time,
this man’s body, these glasses,
this mustache,

these options of which sweater,
these plaid Arrow shirts,
this bottle of Old Spice,

these pants, the same belt,
& initially pray
“I hope this aint it”

but then, what comes up
in the brown study
but a memory of New York,

Schuyler’s apartment,
sun streaming in
through familiar blinds

you never owned,
a vision
you didn’t even have,

someone else’s erection
another person’s day, & suddenly
you realize you’d been right

all along: mountains
are somebody’s back yard,
& we live there.



Baseball

Come on slugger
You got a few more poems in ya