Summation: It was deliberate. We had to burn our barn, let our harvest go. Precipitations: Mama lost the baby, Father did not come back from town. The chestnuts failed again. We were distressed. Particularly lost. At winter’s eager edge. The Process: We bemused ourselves. Considerations: We could not: leave Mama alone with her cavernous dry…
Charles Simic, Jackstraws, poems: This collection of new poems paints exquisite and shattering word pictures that lend meaning to a chaotic world, uniting the solemn with the absurd. Simic continues to startle with images of the ethereal, fantastic visions of the everyday, and moments full of humor and heartache. (FSG)
1. It’s so much easier to get further from home than nearer that all men become travelers. 2. Of all the ways to avoid living, perfect discipline is the most admired. 3. Idolaters of the great need to believe that what they love cannot fail them, adorers of camp, kitsch, trash that…
road sign at the edge of town A blue part that is remembered, not a member of the class of prosthetic memories but still a leg up, a boost giving a glimpse over the wall of exile, to a blue that is remarkable and lovely for a garbage can: an aisle of blue garbage cans…
Gerald Stern, Last Blue, poems: A statement from Stern himself illuminates the focus of his outstanding twelfth collection: “Light vs. darkness has always been one of my themes, but now more than ever. Not only is this the root-and metaphor-for all the major religions, but the almost biological frame of reference for humans. With me,…
My cousin does a wheelie in a muddied Mustang, radish red, parks askew at Quito’s, a clam bar where we drink beer, pine the days of seminary, LSD, Jimi Hendrix playing Strasbourg, the hours when all the Howes were stick-style architects, and every waterfront dry goods was built on ballast rock from Slave Coast turrets….
Sent for by mail, a chameleon waits with the rest of the freight for a name. Our name. We risk fraud for what arrives in 8–10 weeks: a limp form, silent at first, but alive. Guaranteed it will improve, we allow for quiet, for its remove in the terrarium: haven’t we summoned nature to our…
The Rio Grande should be repaired sooner or later because it’s a shame what happened to it which is not pretty. Irrigation and all and no sturgeon any more and pubic hairs and pollution. -Harve Benedict, English 12, Elfego Baca High School O hundreds and hundreds of Harves, your writing should have been the death…
With each rebirth, a little more is lost. As pounds of feathers turn to flame—then ash—an ounce, at least, is bound to blow off. Take the breast. It may appear less lushly plumed than myth has led you to expect. In this unfortunate event, permit us to apologize on our bird’s behalf….
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