There are two pleasures left, something and nothing and though, like money, death gets in the way of having things, there’s an extreme white arbor overhead having nothing to do with mothers and fathers or from how far away their letters pursue a reallocating child more intently than the stem of that flower ending in…
It’s a pious coil? It could be But you wait to be sure. Your hair blown back by Hope and teased by failure, You grope the lone desert for Sorts. You feel you know Pubic Hair. You want to sing The correlations between mosquito bites. You want to do math The way bricks do…
She hears the bear outside her dream-the charred corpse driving her away from a flaming city-before she wakes up. She has never seen a bear, except in a zoo, but she does not extricate her body from the boiling quilt or crawl to the window. Midnight in this national forest feels dangerous to her, too…
The six directions which form a sheep are proof enough of Plan. Plain to see why the head belongs on top: to view the view. And why The ewe must brace her hooves against the earth. The belly Rides beneath the back, to ease digestion on its downward tract. As teats…
Heather McHugh is wired. She is also wireless (see laptop, below), wry, and webbed (spondee.com). She speaks in passionate flurries, seriocomic riffs that only begin to reflect her speed of thought. She annotates as she speaks, offering first and second answers, embellishing and revising and punning. Words are her sparks and her flame. “As the…
I don’t know what I was thinking taking us to the Museum of Surgery but we left very glad of anesthetic and the sky entirely uncut-open. Later, it was nearly impossible to see the haystacks because it turned out we were in the Museum of Museum Guards. One woman was eight feet tall, her head…
From Book of the Cranberry Islands, Chapter 14, The Burial of The Jellyfish; Return of Champlain to the Outer Waters, Section 1 The moon cracks the glass, rising in pure altimeter like a ghost. A ghost rises, its phosphor is the moon. In the center of myself: a stream, travelling neither toward nor away from…
I have been a day boarder, Lord. I have preferred the table to the Bed. I have proffered, Lord, and I have profited, Lord, but little, but not. I was Bored, Lord, I was heavy, Lord. Heavy bored. Hopeless, Lord, hideous, Lord. Sexless. I was in love, Lord, but not with You….
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