Here's how I know God: the taste of a ripe pear or that silken explosion of the air that sinks in, spewing empty blueness. Head and hair are washed clean instantly. I'm afraid that—let's say, your eyes—will melt onto my hands, exude a fragrance toward the sky or thunder to the netherworld like the falls…
Dolores meets the African boy in a tourist restaurant called The Yoghurt Inn. She is sipping a cold lemon juice, despite her vow to avoid drinks made with unboiled water, and trying to read The Man Who Mistook His Wife for a Hat. It is extremely hot and humid. Before she collapsed in the bamboo-filtered…
. . . and yet this woman did not look like her, except for the little white shoes whose sole, where the toes went in, had imperceptible scratches like those of dancers. —Breton, Soluble Fish The Boston Ballet is doing “The Confusion of Modern Adolescence” if you remove the first and the second to the…
for Philip Wilby Lord of the returning leaves, of sleepers Waking in their tunnels among roots, Of heart and bush and fire-headed stag, Of all things branching, stirring the blood like sap, Pray for us in your small commemorations: The facet of stained glass, the carved face Lapped by decorations on the column side, And…
Whoever is truly cast in pure love needs no heaven, let heaven go. The body blossoms forth into a frightful silence, walls and chairs awaken. Parts of things were once human members, too. My love, your warm pressure on my temples hurts so much. It pushes me into a sacred circle, immuring, then expanding. Its…
The blue light of the teevee glowed on our blue faces. Ray Charles sang of Georgia on his mind. “His mind? That nigger doesn't have a mind!” Grandmomma said. She threw her tatting down on her lap, hawked once, dipped snuff, and glowered at the teevee set. “Damn niggers taking over teevee. You can't watch…
They were living in Providence again after spending the summer in Wildwood, New Jersey. In Wildwood, Stephen worked on a fishing boat, a deep-sea charter named The Pied Piper. It was a bad name for a fishing boat since it made people think of rats in the water. Families and businesses hired the boat for…
Easter Sunday. Matthäus Passion spins. (Have been revising “A Valediction,” avoiding writing this.) Can't seem to get past the first disc's aria, Buß und Reu. Yesterday we dyed eggs (it was my first time). We all laughed while I reddened, blowing; out oozed the mess. Then you were too drained for St. Mary's smoky Mass….
Huge drowsy yellow jackets rose out of the sick-sweet stink of fruit— a tub of scuppernongs wedged in between me and my uncle. He said, “Hold that tub steady. Don't let her tip.” He drove and boasted of his new air pump and how only fools would pay full retail price. And when the wasps…
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