From a sparse handful of seed comes summer— Corn and convolvulus. Scatter of color on the mountainside, near snow. Gone, we want to say, of some longing in the slim afternoon— Though poppies collapse to soft flesh at a touch, heather tolls its little bells . . . • A bee, trapped between windowpanes. Its…
Maura Stanton: Life Among the Trolls (David R. Godine), a poetry collection that explores themes of love and hate.
When the iceberg pulled by a team of white horses comes sliding down the boulevard, the crowd, which had been so festive, whistling, hooting, throwing their hats in the air, grows silent. Almost silent are the ten Kikuyu warriors striding in slow motion, one clenched fist shooting up in the air every ten paces…
Sakti: a feminine power in Hindu thought— creative, perhaps destructive In my small niece’s room, the walls throb pink: pink tights lie, thrown on a flowered spread. Rose frills, mauve, & pearl— Girl colors, blended of blood & milk. A sprawled doll, & through the window fat, voluptuous clouds above the sea. The forms…
The elevator is full of the swim team. The swim team knows How many goldfish Will fit in a phone booth. The window and its attendant shadows Are not wise. They are an insult To the swim team, Which has God on its side. The swim team knows How to pull a knife on the…
I will be coming up the hill from school in an hour . . . Lena stretches to the clothesline as Carl Is coming slowly back over from the barn . . . Between them the field dips deep and the field Slopes long and half the day, already, is done. She pushes a wooden…
Showered in ghosts his trees sing forked over by wind each inherits a musical gift but the fever’s got by subscription revelry abounds on wet cobblestones of the commuter moon the moon’s new zoo’s main attractions being card-boxed turmoil (say the mobile mind breaks down on its own Utopia Parkway) by Joseph Cornell and softly…
At the time of Babette, my grandfather was not yet twenty. Although today, and perhaps even then, such youth is not necessarily married to innocence, in his case it was. There were boys his age who had already served in the war and returned, but he was not among them for the unromantic reason that…
There was rain which soon turned To snow and no place we had in mind We wanted to go so we stayed in bed And made love all afternoon . . . As the lamps lit the street We got up from each other Because there was money to be made Because we did not…
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