Touch my hand from the outer edge, touch it firmly but gentle be, try to find the radial artery. Heavy lids pull off delicately and exercise the pupils' reflexes. Put the mirror close to my mouth and see if breath clouds the glass. If nothing can be caught shroud me in sleek silk, press the…
We listen for the clear voice of our rooster, with all his might demanding the day. There is only quiet, a weak light coming anyway. I’ve looked wherever a bird unfit for life in the wild might hide. It was his coop, his kingdom. He showed the cat his wrath. He sparked the little fleck…
The names of stars: Sirius. Arcturus, Alpha Centauri, Vega. The names of Hungarians: Laszlo, Tibor, Zoltan, Sandor. The names of the great rivers: Nile, Congo, Amazon, Orinoco, Zambezi. The names of ships: African Dawn, China Bear, Coral Sea, Delta Queen. The names of the Spanish explorers: Cortez, Balboa, De Soto, Coronado. The names on the…
The night my brother died my father wrenched his own cracked, yellow molars from his mouth and went crashing like a wounded deer over the ridge and down, five miles through the brush, into Soda Canyon where the cops found him wandering, spent, around the burnt-out dance hall and brought him home. Bandaging his brush…
Dawning, but for whom? He lies unconscious, broken by the surf of sleep, marbled skin and bluish lips, green anisocorion. A bond of godhead almost extinguished with the arriving blood-red dawn. Who now can conjure feeling for someone permeated by dark and light of spent passion, whose shrivelled lips remind one of worn fruit? Let…
We used to drive around in the car at night, we didn't have anything else to do. We didn't like to be in our apartment. There weren't places we could sit and do things. If I read my homework on the bed, there wasn't anywhere for my mother to go. The sofa in the living…
As a child I didn't learn to logroll good or know it was a sport. To reach a clearing of summer-smooth water where I plopped a red float and hooked line to fish for carp With arms extended I'd glide dance skip jump run land on vast islands of logs spinning wet waiting for tugboats…
She dreams redly of ashes and is hurrying, hurrying.
Your six kids search for you all over Yakima. We don't find you in the corner bar, the lights low, your spirits high, sipping one last brandy. We don't find you sitting on a bench, shoulders stooped, waiting for the last bus home. We find you miles from town, lost, gazing at spring apple trees…
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