Then came the day even as the water glass felt heavy and I knew, as I’d suspected, I grew lighter. I grew lighter, yes. Say, have you ever fainted? Such a distinct horizon as you are raised above your pain, like Chekhov’s, and it was clear to them the end was still far off ….
Let us think of God as a lover Who never calls, Whose pleasure in us is aroused In unrepeatable ways, God as body we cannot Separate from desire, Saying to us, “Your love Is only physical.” Let us think of God as a bronze With green skin Or a plane…
Teenagers and oldsters, married couples and lovers— it is eight in the evening and everyone is kissing. On park benches, on the grassy slopes of the hill, sitting on curbs, joined in cafés they are kissing. (I am not kissing; I am strolling along. If I want activity, I have my newspaper.) Why is the…
Innocent and earnest, good at marathons, the surgeon believed in his hands; he said he’d cut the tumor out, a convoluted unnatural thing wrapping its tentacles around the brain’s little house. Nothing more than architecture, then he paused: he knew about the maze, the puzzle. He put on his white clothes; over his entire being…
Amazing to believe that nothingness Surrounds us with delight and lets us be And that the meekness of nonentity, Despite the friction of the world of sense, Despite the leveling of violence, Is all that matters. All the energy We force into the match head and the city Explodes inside a loving emptiness. Not Dante’s…
Had it worked well even once? Can one point to a golden age of good times? Whatever the case, the arms decided at last to separate themselves. They were not like the others; they had their own tastes and ambitions: pleasures the others could never appreciate. The legs went next, alleging a life of agony…
for Melissa and Ricardo of Melissa’s Piano Bar Santorini, Greece Are they crazy?” “Yes.” “I think my officers would like to shoot these crazy people.” “Of course. But their deaths would reflect badly upon me.” A white woman and two white male companions lay unmoving on the ground, on their bellies, their hands tied behind…
For the priests accused of fondling altar boys, Of using the orifice of communion and the other Unnaturally, for heresies preached Of whisper, nudge and dubious games, Hand burning a thigh in dubious Accident and secrecy, The way elation cauterizes fear, For the fevers of adrenalin wherein shame Forges one an angel naked and invisible,…
Like a dream, which when one becomes conscious of it becomes a confusion, so her name slipped between the vacancies. As little more than a child I hurried among a phalanx of rowdy boys across a dance floor— such a clattering of black shoes. Before us sat a row of girls in pastel dresses waiting….
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