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for Carl Hays Drizzle this morning, but a cool glare in the brain, and I’m staggering again down Cherry Street toward that cratered-out joint on Broadway where one happy night, eons ago, I cut a rug with a hopped-up redhead. Nothing came of that, Carl, except a few short hours of inexplicable…
It all started when Sophie came home from college, between her sophomore and junior years. She wasn’t happy to be back. She’d grown to love Boston, the sad blustery winters, the confusing one-ways and roundabouts, and she felt like she’d outgrown California—its sunny, childlike happiness. Worst of all was her mother. Sophie was an only…
We meet day-plain and inches away, faces facing off in a garden, kissing closed kisses, solemn, bone-dry, and exquisite as the leaves of our sweating faces glisten, sheens giving back each tree’s green. My greenery grows untoward, branches burst windows, menace doors, what sky is wide enough to house me? Breath…
Two and a half weeks after I was born, on July 9th, 1958, the plates that make up the Fairweather Range in the Alaskan panhandle apparently slipped twenty-one feet on either side of the Fairweather fault, the northern end of a major league instability that runs the length of North America. The thinking now…
At the moment when you stop mid-step and look into my eyes, as if at a ship on the horizon, blue sea and sun, and light drains out of the sky and your face is lit by its own sun in the far-off land we will sail to in the boat whose mooring line you…
Chicago Stories Alewives The year the alewives were washing up on the shores of the lake and their stench rose up from the beaches so that even when you couldn’t smell them anymore they stank up your memory. Newly dead they were a silvery blue. In the sun they were like hundreds of mirrors. They…
Number following number, oscillations Neatly described, heart’s plunder Or loss, following, that old saw, again and again, And the route taken always is the shortest Between two points, between what must be And that lapsing cloud, a continental Dimming, and then stillness, and always the afterward, Trying to place it, a…
While the machine sucks the black suds from my mother’s blood and then sends it back stinking clean into the pistol-tube nailed down into her chest, I climb out of my shoes and slip a cotton swab of water between her teeth, her dentures sliding off the back porch of her mouth. Nobody knows, never…
Drizzle of rain pattering on the dwarf palms, dark towers and blue parapets of clouds Over the ruffled blue gingham of the sea, sweet scent of seawrack and fresh life borne on the wind That ambles along the sands and sticks of drift like a nosing poi dog Wig-wagging from the lava rock point along…
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