He makes a myth of everything he does: At dawn he puts his shirt on—that's a poem; At night he takes it off—same deal. Alone, He drinks to blot out the young man he was. Oh, he was fine—muscles rippling, the fire Of subject matter in his eyes: his home Was what he wrote about…
This was the year the summer would not end in Europe. Even the terrorists went about their work in short-sleeved shirts and sandals, hurtling from target to target in air-conditioned BMWs. It was the Chernobyl summer also, and a Polish emigré she knew linked the hazy sunny days and humid nights to the Soviet rads…
1. The sky is like the belly of a snake. 2. My mare shakes powdered sugar from her coat. 3. How much freeze and thaw can tulips take? 4. The river's out. We come and go by boat. 5. John Deeres upholster fields in corduroy. 6. Shoots flicker like heat lightning through the dust. 7….
The “texts” hang from her jaws like bags of feed— The one end chews; the other drops its pile. The nameplate on her door reads, or should read: “World's Largest Overstimulated Child.” Like Pegasus, she takes the “aerie” view— (Whose work holds interest if her own cannot?)— And trundles down the runway, lifts—(Mon Dieu! The…
Since we arrived in Banaras, I've become very sick. David is not sick, not yet; but he's also in danger of dying. We don't know yet. Many Indians believe they will go directly to Nirvana if they die in Banaras. They want to get out of this world and never come back. We're Americans, and…
Even the surface of the street stirs; birds squawk up and circle; wind rushes from nowhere till tree limbs thrash. From two directions in the café, some kind of jazz whines— saxophone in one speaker, anxious, wire brush in the other, svelte and anxious too, stroking the cymbal till it stirs. I imagine it glinting…
She knew she was cousin to Freud, Fraud. She knew how her dreams governed her life. She hadn't flown in the cockpit for forty years, and yet the feel of it was in her hands, her body bend, only because she had dreamed again last night of flying the Martin Marauder (at night the big…
Lavalle Freeman is coming home from Africa with a parasite. Every morning for the last three weeks at the base he woke up listless and could hardly drag himself out of his bunk for drills in the humid mist. Then he began to urinate blood. The Army doctor outside Kalingani talked with him for half…
Old black-and-white photos of musicians cover the walls at Alvin's Twilight Bar. A fire burns in the grate. The patrons are neighbors. I read the Free Press until a woman I know comes in for soup and beer. We listen to blues on the jukebox, drink a lot. So far talk is easy. Lady Day,…
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