Percussion at bedtime! A fist-sized rock, well-aimed, wrecked two windowpanes and missile-cruised my living room, bestowing transparent sharpness; ricocheted; reposed on a walnut bookshelf thick with history (the Black Jacobins, class war in ancient Greece). Glittering quills adorned a potted palm. The projectile excited scrutiny: its mongrel shape lopsided— round, then sharp; its colors muddy,…
I’m up in Squaw Valley—yes the name is utterly inappropriate in these late twentieth-century days, but hey, history isn’t pretty especially place names. Monument Valley has no monuments The Eiffel Tower or Tour Eiffel just stands there squat on the ground, then rises grid and girders. The difference between New York and Paris is landmarks….
When the lights go out on a peaceful evening, it is wartime. Who pulled the switch? Sometimes all he heard was water on sand and even the shiplights flickered off, the bulbs swaying emptily on their poles. The bombers always rose from the horizon invisibly after dark. He dropped a glass of wine….
I was left out I was chosen second & then left out I was left handed I was left to fend for myself I was the second in command I was the second in line I came without directions * I want the milk I want my first pick I want choice & all…
for Raul Acero Secure the base So the flesh will have something To cling to; wrap wire Around the wood and Fill with clay, liberally; No, continue to add Clay—more than it seems You will ever need for his Indented cheeks—and slap More onto the base of the skull; Don’t forget the constellation Of bones…
Way out on the horizon— on the thinnest blue line sail thirteen sailboats with white sails. And all of them bear the name of one woman sailing out thirteen times out of lives and sight. With her faith in hurricanes and alcohol and the Coast Guard off-duty for the day, this time she may be…
My brother went to Indiana and came back dead. From the ice-blasted plains he wrote me one letter. “Class is hard. My roommate smells like a horse. I have a job as a security guard. A car would be good. Send curry.” My mother sent the chicken dripping onto plastic in a box; the car…
translated by Marilyn Hacker He wants to have The operation but He’s crazy The doctors are Crazy and then Raising her voice to The heavens she told him Never! He just needs simple Cucumber compresses A lot of love Anyway if he dies She’ll kill herself.
So, God takes your child by the hand and pulls her from her deathbed. He says: “Feed her, she is ravenous.” You give her fruits with thick hides —pomegranate, cantaloupe— food with weight, to keep her here. You hope that if she eats enough the light and dust and love which weave the matrix of…
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