from the world that called you Piñon not one voice is now not stopped Piñon little pine nut sweet seed of the pine tree which is evergreen Soul that discovered itself as it discovered the irreparable breaking through ice to touch the rushing stream whose skin breaking allowed darkness to swallow blondhaired Ramona in 1944…
from The Searchers The song on the radio reminded him of Puerto Morelos. It was syrupy and trashy and reminded him of the girl he’d loved there, briefly, at sixteen. Reminded him of ceviche made fresh on the beach and bananas con leche, and of the couple who owned the bar, Tony, the gringo hippie…
A word I can’t remember some black hawk of a word flew out of you at uninsurable speed but with a 4th grade pitch & intonation to it it sounded something like instinctual tho wasn’t— it must have surprised me so as to give me amnesia— and where did that come from I wondered what…
1. Georgetown, Great Exuma. Two o’clock on a Sunday afternoon in the Chat and Chill Bar on Stocking Island. KB, the Bahamian who owns the place, is looking for an argument and can’t find one. Mandela versus Boutelayzee, University of Chicago versus Harvard, chanterelles versus portabellas. Even Mushroom John, who brought his wife, Sandy, down…
From here it looks like forgiveness, the possibility of a man: himself a meadow I traverse by sight, by feel, hand over hand across the green of him, eyelight by eyelight until I take him all in. Or is it just the front yard again, azaleas, hot pepper plants, and a stand of pampas grass…
1. Tonight the clouds resemble French surrealists soft and electric and hot to the touch hustling north from the New York Public Library as if to grab the lease of the vacant apartment on E. 49th Street Frank O’Hara rented for $31 a month in 1952. Poor clouds. They have no sense of time and…
For what did one raise these children? For what did one labor and heave and suffer reconstructive surgery; for what did one feed and clothe and coax and school, raising them from sitting to standing to making their own money, if not for their well-deserved gratitude? It was work, it was a lot…
It started with my mother using the walker to get from her bedside to the bathroom and me saying wow, and wonderful. It started one morning when my mother looked in the mirror and asked: Who the fuck is that? Disgusted. It started with the medicines: the ones that make her cheeks…
You drove all night through thunderstorms, the PA turnpike slick and narrow in the passes. The tractor-trailers roaring, and sleep whistling past your ears . . . My heart was where a hundred roads converged & then moved on At one point you drove under a mountain. Later the sun unfolded over the…
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