since I couldn’t say tomorrowI said Wednesday since I couldn’t say Cleveland I saidOhio since I couldn’t say hello I hung upsince I couldn’t say burger a waitress finishedmy sentence a green-striped mint dissolved on my tonguefrom peacock to dove since I couldn’t say my name I opened as if preparing for a throatculture since…
Someone else died again,and when I heard, I feltthe green oceanlike a suffocating quiltpulled over me. I had a fatheronce with a heroinneedle in his arm. So what am Icapable of? I’d rather flipa book open than attend a party,feel my numbedfingertips in the cold and neveragain hear my sister’s voiceecho, “Joel killed himselflast night.”…
“Nature’s Grand Hotel has its Season, like the others. As the guests one by one pack, pay, and depart, and the seats at the table-d’hote shrink pitifully at each succeeding meal…Why not stay on quietly here, like us, and be jolly?” —Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows Don’t sit too close, the smellof her…
A brick warehouse, a cold morning,and Newark in the distance. Bleakis how I take my coffee, insidea shipping container while a planecranks by. Thinking something about “the bloom of youth” somethingI’ve lost something a manwould feel right saying but which sitsunder my tongue, unwanted pill. I do take the bitter train throughNew Jersey but this…
Remember the night it snowedin a place we were told would never snowand like two shadows cast by a lampstanding in the presence of a Greaterwe walked the beach the sand’s grit limpidthe expanse of what I didn’t know endlesslyswallowing the floes the ocean has always beenimmutable and dumb has always carried onpast my limitations…
Laughing at the thought of lackof pleasure as a pleasure—monuments not yet objects,a waltz not for dancing but for labor— and having slogged through pollen,considerable weeds and fallenpower lines to be here, I have moreto say about this day than of the year. Blasphemy’s part of the Logos too,like wanting the light my way. Towersdisappear…
In the beginning, there was the lattice work of the body.You climbed me the way a cat… [wait, let me start over] In the lattice work of the body, we began.You climbed inside me. Fixed there like aneye in a socket. You saw everything: …
ba·ja·da noun 1: a steep curved descending road or trail 2: an alluvial plain formed at the base of a mountain by the coalescing of several alluvial fans Origin 1865-70, Americanism: from the Spanish feminine past participle of bajar: to descend December 20 Santiago quit the academy yesterday. We were on our way into town…
The Forever Rachel chiseled into a tree and many years later written in the water of a pond. Forever Rachel in her mesh hikers, stepping over a sleeping policeman. Hair under her arms. Hair on her legs. Wielding a picket sign every other day. She made her prom dress out of old newspapers and during…
No products in the cart.