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POEM thicken volition cushion      Tom Raworth the lace teenagers’ orphanage      Victor Bockris SUNSET lie down in yellow flowers it’s the whole world      Andrew Wylie POEM FOR STRAWBERRY You can turn the pages while Mommy changes you.            Gailyn Saroyan      A Musical Poem ABCDEFG                  Davi Det Hompson a little thomas hardy      Aram Saroyan

I don’t dive for pearls and I don’t expect anyone else to dive for pearls either

Listen I am tired of being killed over and over your eyes whitewash my bones I feel my shadow fading on the wall. I think I look like a mouse small, quick, running under the door. Your wide smile hangs in trees prying apart the leaves; later you add paws, claws, long lusty fur that…

The long black whip cracked at the wind. And the handle. . . If I held it in my right hand, my thumb would cross between her breasts and the rest of my fingers would embrace her back and come around to rest on the inside of her right thigh. But now, her arms are…

The pears fall hushed in the grass like fat pigeons. At first spotted careful as goldfish, a delicate bruise soon swallows their contours. On the boughs pears clench into yellow. (We ate slightly rotted pears as children, our tongues finding the sharp line between use & decay. Sometimes against the core, a worm like green…

How do you get to scream the world is good and we have only to lose ourselves in its goodness? Ask me in return and together we’ll question every man, woman and child we meet, and won’t it be the Lord’s Prayer if we all get up on our legs and shout out the question…

           you the      perceiver then when things come            close                                    far                              i there’s                  no mover with                        action it’s                              all right not                        she      any old                                    dirt                        …

It was not spring but spring seemed on its way That winter’s day that sun and wine had warmed For us, at leisure (one might almost say At peace), although the city’s sidewalks swarmed With people not too different from our own. But whether it was splendour or a slum Through which we walked, we…

Soft, soft is my life and America is grand wherein I take off two whole days from work. The difficulty is in how to adjust to returning so that this hurting myself is to be included in my pleasure and the face of America, nose of a Mack truck, eye of a windshield, is not…