David Roderick Poems

Loot my point of view,
hove my heart
free from its hived booth
...

I'm not interested in sadness,
just a yard as elder earth,
a library of sunflowers
...

In flowerbeds we crowd, some praying,
some bowing as the world, minute as it is,
stays in motion: box stores doing business,
...

First, a black mark in the sky,
a speck that grows
...

Basho said to refuse a prayer until its warmth hunches inside like
a bird in its hutch. First the fledgling is born, then the worm, then they
...

First the towers
fell, then the Dow. A few years later,
while she was still recovering
...

Perhaps each color was inspired by a sensation
in his pores, cigarette smoke in his nostrils
or the pleasant rise of heat around his head.
...

When autumn turned
the trees and there was nothing
left to do but rake their musk,
...

Where the dead are buried with shells over their eyes
we're most disciplined, most weary.
When their statues come to life
...

Easy enough now that we've revised
the bestiary, captured it in pixels
and released it on the Net. Our demise
...