Jim Daniels has several books out including M-80, Blessing This House,
and another anthology for which he was Editor, Letters to America: 
Contemporary American Poetry on Race. He is the head of the Creative 
Writing Department at Carnegie Mellon University.

Jim Daniel's first book of stories, No Pets, was published in 1999 by Bottom Dog Press, and his next book of poems, Blue Jesus, and an anthology he co-edited, American Poetry: The Next Generation, are both forthcoming from Carnegie Mellon Press in 2000. These poems are taken from a series based on the paintings of  Francis Bacon (the title of the painting is in parentheses beneath the poem) and will be included in Blue Jesus.

Naked Man With Newspaper
(Study of George Dyer, 1971)

not reading it
staring away from the window
at the dark wall
it lies at his feet, the world
and its sad announcements
crackling beneath his toes
his mouth ajar
shallow breathing
a shirt waits for him
in another room
and the wristwatch
his father gave him
and a ring he's removed
permanently and a mirror
waiting to forgive him
one more morning

chilled, but still - enough?
he places his hands together
as if in prayer
he lifts them to his lips
and blows.

Bleeding
(Seated figure, 1962)

dripping on the couch, trailing
into the bathroom, spotting
the tile floor, pressing the cloth
against the nose, tilting back
the head, eyes closed, the dark
wet reminder, grief's dripping
calendar-she's gone gone
gone, swirling paint of bitter words,
maze of unfinished sentences
and in the mirror above the sink
your own eyes shying away
as you suck it back in.

The Black Hole 
Of The Human Body
(Head II, 1949)

it bore into the leg cast
of a little girl who didn't look
both ways

it was displayed
on the ribs of a bullfighter
and in the open mouths
of the stunned crowd

it appeared as an oil stain
on a gas station calendar
obscuring another
manufactured holiday

the puckered anus
of a bored junkie posing
in a porn magazine

the cancerous lesion
on the check
of a self-portrait

the scar of dried snot
pulled from the nose
of the filthy man
with two clean dogs
washing himself
in the playground fountain

it's not going away
so we may as well
plunge our wrists in it

we may as well wave to the shadow
loitering under the streetlight
and call it in

.Hat And Coat
(Figure study 1, 1945-46)

when all goes limp
when you buy your final
can of worms
only to spill them in the dirt
and watch them roil loose

when you wipe your nose
with a handful of dollar bills
then glue them in your scrapbook

when the flowers turn to glass
and the world locks itself
into parallel lines there's no
squeezing between

when the assumption that
smothering yourself
might possibly be for the best

when you disappear without tricks
under your fedora and overcoat
leaving only a large dark lump

when your eulogies are delivered
by the skeletal remains
of what you once called friends

well then.
Yes.

.Jet Of Water
(Jet of water, 1979)

I am in love
with any fountain
I am promiscuous
with fountains
I have made my wish
I have tossed my coin
I have witnessed the small
splash and gentle sinking.

I am in love
with the simplicity
of fountains
water into air
a dribble or a shot
release relief repeat
the mist of vague dreams.

let me take you there
(let me take you there)
lit by evening and fragile sin
(lit by the one forgiving eye)
and if we wade in the pool
(and if we wade in the pool)
we will receive a saving grace
(will we give a saving grace)

oh Lord when I die
(when I die)
leave the water running

© Copyright, Jim Daniels.

All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission.