A summer visitor to the Cape Cod resort village of Provincetown, Massachusetts, is liable to see just about anything walking down Commercial Street, the town’s main drag and zone of street theater. From muscle boys with shaved chests and nail polish to Portuguese fishermen in waders to a drag queen wearing a G-string, metal helmet,…
By the third occasion-she couldn’t exactly call them “dates”-Mira thought she had him figured out. Before that she had not been able to determine whether he was a crazy person acting sane or a sane person acting crazy. She had met him through the personals. His ad had described him as “energetic” and “ambitious,” and…
I rejoice in the poems not written: the cruelly discarded: the crippled, the asthmatic, the anemic: the poem about a photograph: about what love is like: about how strangely I felt that day: about something about me, noticed. Bless you, go on the ash-heap, that fine compost from muscle, blood, bone, which fuels surely the…
MASTHEAD Guest Editor Thomas Lux Editor Don Lee Poetry Editor David Daniel Assistant Editor Gregg Rosenblum Associate Fiction Editor Maryanne O'Hara Associate Poetry Editor Susan Conley Founding Editor DeWitt Henry Founding Publisher Peter O'Malley Editorial Assistants: Kris Fikkan, Eson Kim, Michelle Campo, and Jean Hopkinson. Staff Assistant: Tom Herd. Poetry Readers: Brian Scales, Jennifer Thurber,…
Thank God for the beaver pond. You know I had my doubts about cutting the two-hour trail so close to the pond, but those animals are not shy, and let me tell you: it was destiny. Those two men I guided last night? They said they had come all the way…
As if their very comeliness were centrifugal, one falls forward slightly toward the husband and wife standing together under the outdoor lights of a summer party. Sunburnt, vibrant, expressive, perfectly proportioned, they make clear, unwittingly and in relief, our ordinary, passably-attractive selves. God and goddess, or king and queen, amassing mythic energy as they speak…
It’s a December afternoon in Houston, and I’m stuck in traffic on Westheimer, in a strip of shopping centers — an unrevealing detail, since Houston mostly is a strip of shopping centers, more retail opportunities stretched endlessly along these roads than you’d think even the fourth largest city in America could ever make use of….
We saw it on the side of the road, its back legs splayed like scissors that have come unhinged: a rabbit dragging its ruined parts, insisting on the sweet grass beyond the curb. We knew it was dying, Susan and I. We said We should leave it, as we stopped down the road and asked…
1959 When we set out on the train to Agra I thought, What an old palace we are going to see, it’s an old grave. I was tired when we reached the station and you hired a taxi to take us to the steps of the Taj Mahal; you couldn’t even wait until morning,…
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