WEBVTT

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And I followed that with a--

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I think a 50-poem series
called A Book of Concealments.

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And I think what was
really being concealed

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was the first person pronoun.

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I did the book with a
lot of first person--

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do a series of poems without
the first person pronoun.

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So I'll just read one poem
from that, a favorite which is

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dedicated to Diane Rothenberg.

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It goes back to a
conversation that many people

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have when you look at
what's going on around you

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and you say, I've never been
in as terrible a time as this.

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"The Times Are Never Right."

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Warm days hanging over
San Diego where streets

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slide into murky canyons.

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What is this but home, and
what is home but a misnomer?

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Pisces has shifted into Aries.

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Aggravated bumps shadowing
the server's arms

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are no concern to anyone yet
called to our attention show

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a strain, a fearsomeness
hard to conceal.

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The times are never right.

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A skin of air is
over everything.

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The sun flows like a liquid.

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All the universe we
see has never happened.

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There is no truth to time
except for birthdays.

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In a city under
siege, a ceremony

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gathers scattering the birds.

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We live forever in the
instant in the house we share.

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A groom and bride are
figures smaller than a thumb,

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and little reckoning
how short the passage

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between death and life.

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