N  a  p a  l  m     H  e  a  l  t  h     S  p  a  :     R  e  p  o  r  t     2  0  0  8






world sorrow


I think you have

what is called

world sorrow’



I say into the phone


out the window

the neighbor’s old yellow dog

lowers his muzzle

carefully to the lawn,

dry convulsions

traveling his bony sides,

his feet planted wide

& legs stiff

for the thrust of vomit


yeah, I’ve got it alright


the dog’s lips froth & curl back,

his teeth bare to the tips of the grass


as if pronouncing

the impeccable


you’re tired


I say


the dog waiting


you need some rest







I am prone on the ship rock

peering down the crack

where the Blue-belly lizard lives

guarding his detachable tail


he stares back at me


in the cleft shadow


at last I turn over

and lie back

on the sun-warmed granite

to watch the clouds pass





night comes more slowly now



the cold


for all its descriptions


has lost the death bite



and the daylight dies longer,


its pale gold


gathered by


moving clouds



the gas meter


on the southwest side of the house


twists out    a turn of intervals


diabolis in musica


over and over again



I have locked the door


against the murderers and thieves,


but no one can keep them out eternally



the thieves so quick with intelligence


the murderers so fragile at heart





the soldier,



proud and still


in his beautiful uniform,


never once raised his eyes



as everyone passed by him



with retching,




and tears



the leg he would not let them cut


quietly rotting


into the common air





fur bearing



I do not know what kind of beast it was,


but slender and long-limbed



the man grabbed it


flayed it in one stroke


and threw its body to the side.



there it lifted its head


and turned to look


at what had been done


with dark gentle eyes