This novel, titled Recipes From the Dump, is a mock cookbook of our culture. Spoken in the first person, the main character is a single mother of three, trying to cope in a world that appears to be falling apart. While reading the personals and taking evening walks with her wise neighbor, Gabby Fulbriten assembles…
Oil on paper mounted on linen Never this scratched world, its human brows like dry point, your harmonies are liquid glycerin, soothing, the lingering bath. Who knew better than you, Mark Rothko: color has not root nor core. Into each other at the first kiss fusing, a metamorphosis! Blue paint laps about our toes, our…
There's nothing more seductive than the basement of this gated and clapboard building in Bed-Stuy, Brooklyn, on a Sunday afternoon when Sister Walker's got the turkey wings and the fried chicken and the baked macaroni and the green beans and candied yams simmering on every burner in the tiny kitchen while upstairs all the brothers…
My earlier collections of verse were invariably divided into sec- tions—into sequences, that is—where geography or subject matter gave a unity to each section and a title set it off against its neighbours. The whole effect, or so I hoped, would add up to one of variety within unity, the unity proceeding from tone and…
Acrylic resin paint (Magna) on canvas The eye is watching you, the evil eye red-rimmed as the lipsticked lips of Thirties starlets sucks you in, in, in the quicksand path to sleep, lost Dante touring the circles. You have discovered the first “black hole.” Hesitating, hovering, you cannot decide: to enter the gravity of the…
A new student-Stephanie Adams-stopped by Professor O'Reilly's office that day, and what she wanted him to do was preposterous. She was a striking, blond-haired girl with large eyes, a small, rather prim mouth, and a bright, nervous manner. What she hoped to persuade him to do would ordinarily have been easy to provide: a recommendation…
What I like is when men take a thing— this river, say— and, in the succinctest way, use and transform it: at the fall's head here they have diverted part of the flow: a channel now receives and passes on through its downhill slot all of the directed force that is not there in untaught…
Polymer on canvas Funhouse colors ribboning in long curls a cornucopia's plenty displayed at the state fair we're winning all the color games on the first try, stuffed animals pour out of our ears, glassware trails clinking in the dust, we are indefinitely orbiting ellipses to go on like this forever the centrifugal force that…
Horseface was so dark they called her purple she appeared at dances without a date she sat and stood feet keeping time silent and alone little Mary (Horseface) stroked her hair and sighed little Mary so black her skin sings and shines so black they talk behind her back oh she was so black her…
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