Through the window the moon shone on the table so hard We once in a while shielded our eyes While we told from our lives stories that broke small Bones in our toes, sent you crying to another room Only to return to tell something that popped my nipple Across the table, making a sudden…
There is a city block but the streets are canals but it’s not Venice and there are swans gliding around the corner I’m following this girl who has love-handles that really are handles she goes into a drugstore where an old woman in dark glasses and powder blue Sunday clothes is dealing smack I…
Thomas Gray, 27 March 1767 Fine, but cold. Wd. Brisk at N.E. Saw the Maloc Proscargh: abroad: it was the male. Pilewort in bloom: & Red Currant on a North wall. Gnats stinging. Mrs. Mason Died.
You are sad. You are leaning down on your sadness like the rain is trying to do to us but we are in the house. You are watching the water fall so easily from the tap, you are whizzing through the dishes, you are a man sweating in the next room in a few minutes…
once they were algae eaters sucking at the drama matted around bone coming from one hot drop now little more than a shriveled black spot it has been funneled down to their clay: tons of treacherous fluff every spec fleeced from the world not a memory left to piroucette & brag
(inspired from a 16th century Mughal school painting found in Maurice Dimand’s, Indian Miniatures.) It is the year 1575. Dastan i-Amir Hamza rules India. Persian & Hindu elements appear side by side. One fat assed bird catcher walks east of the painting With no bird or cage. A goatherd and his mistress watch their goats…
Recipe For Painting Gates (18th century) Six pounds: melted pitch. Half a mutchkin: linseed oil. One pound: brick dust. Mix well together. Use it warm.
Holding my New York Times unfolded in front of me, now and then glancing up with considerable casual effect, as if deeply engrossed in thought, I carefully looked him over. I didn't want him to know that he'd been recognized. Naturally. He was well-groomed, which at first surprised me, but then I quickly understood. His…
the night is slow a large snail pulled on a string by the sun on its back it carries all that has been lost as it goes past your house you strap everything in place you retrieve a dusty crate from the rafters of your attic it is empty things are as they should be…
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