In my most recent book, City Life, I used interlocking dramatic monologues to develop a plot and subplot. Finishing it gave me the impetus to experiment with shaping a musical structure out of inter- locking sequences, each sequence resonating with the others. To the Storm's End is one of the sequences I'm working on in…
My friend April Fallon tells me that blood on the exterior of the brain is cooler than that in the interior and that it's in the cooler blood that dreams reside. What do you think? Do you love the head as much as I do? That calcareous shell, the stoniest part of the body. And…
Il grande tetto où picoraient des focs è un'immagine idillica del mare. Oggi la linea dell'orizzonte è scura e la proda ribolle come una pentola. Quando di qui passarono le grandi locomotive, Bellerofonte, Orione i loro nomi, tutte le forme erano liquescenti per sovrappiù di giovinezza e il vento più violento era ancora una carezza….
Under the lamplight of a Paris hotel, You read Time on “The Decline of America” While your wife watches the evening news, hoping for comprehension. You remember when you were very poor And made less money than you'll spend on this vacation. You vowed then not to romanticize that time, But your pockets stuffed with…
Rain today, rain tomorrow. Today we shotgunned a copperhead coiled near the front porch, blasted it in half and the head end crawled under a log. Yesterday the Supreme Court said it wanted to kill or enslave my daughter. I exaggerate, I always exaggerate. I cleaned the shotgun with a wad of oiled rag and…
Un tempo tenevo sott'occhio l'atlante degli uccelli scomparsi dalla faccia del mondo opera di un allievo di David ch'era fallito nel genere del quadro storico o in altre monumentali prosopopee pittoriche. Riflettevo su simili ipotetici atlanti di vite senza becco e senza piume da millenni irreperibili, insetti rettili pesci e anche perché no? l'uomo stesso…
They stroll in and out of the haze of time. Peering at the fractured light of the Impressionists, Not single selves but consolidations Of memories, flickering among brush strokes. And you in a rowboat in the Fifties, Squinting at picnickers at Bethesda Fountain. Above them, bicyclers hunched over and unafraid Race into Harlem, their bodies…
Too conscious of our need for pillows, he rises from bed to walk the street. No need, he thinks, for underwear or other gauze to dress his soul. Because he is alone this late at night we can forgive his need for walking out beyond his robe. He is that near to seeing himself as…
Fra i miei ascendenti qualcuno lottò per l'Unità d'Italia, raggiunse alti gradi. portò la greca sul berretto, fu coinvolto in brogli elettorali. Non gl'importava forse nulla di nulla, non m'importa nulla di lui; il suo sepolcro rischia di essere scoperchiato per carenza di terra o marmi o altro. C'è una morte cronologica, una che è…
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