Third Base

O and I don’t know,

the lonely bookstore poet
is no different

than the loneliest
of all them

(who came before?)

interrogating pro-

misplayed pepper

as routine.


A penny to escape our history

Only penny
he didn’t have

forgotten nerve
to tell This man his

little girl

back of me ending
the line

relieved And were right

schedule for
our dark corner’s


In Massapequa

Mendy, in Massapequa,
something to say:

“Massapequa Mendy,
a callused, arthritic hand,
another smooth, dextrous
one, placing it by the wall.
Mendy, the street light,
Massapequa’s, wondered,
it shined different, altered,
bound, understood,
something to say.”

Mendy, in Massapequa,
something to say:

“Having something to say,
an alright state, obtain.
Not usual, not unusual,
Mendy, to obtain.
Pushing into fencings,
this fact. Newly hatched fact,
Massapequa – who,
something to say.”

Mendy, in Massapequa,
grappling; nothing said;

A variation of frequencies,
and the settling of stones;

Mendy, considered.
Previous, his longtime,

in Massapequa, also,
something to say.