Outside the barracks of the city & the fountains of the suburbs lit up with private yellow lights, kitchens of self, bedrooms of despair, women in white slips pulling down shades, newspaper blown down airshafts like dead souls. Inside the park trees drip green in the dark, unseen lilac flows, pines zig zag, birches rear…
Is lingering by the door With a younger sister Listening to my music. Oh come into my parlor Blush and promise to come again Should I say, “My need is great,” Or “My father married a girl much younger,” Or, “I saw you in the Moka having a milkshake.” Oh why should I, old enuf…
(1) A lot of sky litters my view of home — oh Missed one, lost Helium balloons spill off the horizon & knock me backwards Jeolousy is too easy, this easy I miss a better sentiment, ballooning pride could accomplish Homesick for your hands, I miss the fragrance of my labors in them: devilish…
My father is in New York but I don't see him until the last day of his trip East. Business, he says, Business. Just the same though I look for him on every street corner, in all the bars along Lexington Avenue, and bent low, almost to my knees, I search the taxis along Fifth…
EDITORIAL BOARD Directors Peter O'Malley DeWitt Henry Coordinating Editor James Randall Editorial Staff David Gullette Paul Hannigan William Corbett Katha Pollitt Art Director David Omar White CONTRIBUTORS ALBERTINE is currently building his own dome in Griswold, Connecticut. He studied under Minor White, graduated from Rochester Institute of Technology, is working on his Masters at M.I.T….
Look at me. Turn around. It’s four — thirty Saturday afternoon & this sick loose light that’s coming through the window wants to fall apart. It’s time for me to leave; & Christ, love, if I’ve got to go, this is the time. Pick up the books & help me divide the dishes, the glassware,…
for Leonidas Zenakos Mama Crow makes her nest with feathers and twigs Mama crow counts her eggs and finds some missing Mama Crow preens her neck Mama Crow bleeds her breast -her husband drags out a corpse crowing “Lunchtime, lunch!” At 5 she has her coffee at 7 meat-pie at 8 she builds prisons at…
“I never could stand you too long, don’t you know,” a definite blockage concrete application. The Graces are three Negro bims walking down Columbus Ave. or a woman’s laughter from Shaker Heights or Santa Barbara. He never could forgive himself, …
The old man wasn’t thumbing but I picked him up. He wasn’t growing a beard, just didn’t shave and his sack, Army duffle and white, bulged with all he owned. He apologized three times for the space he was taking and he hated women. Story after story he told of waitresses who said no when…
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