The dome, the mustachelike a circus strongman’s,those shoulders people still climb on.and eyes that hold youin the snow before stackedand battered volumes of mutuallyexclusive systems of belief:UFOs, black magic, MadameBlavatsky’s wisdom receivedat the feet of lamas, whileyours grow cold in the slushy street.His look follows passersbywho, though they can’t identifythe man or recognizethe eyes which…
So many have died,to pick just oneseems willful,unkind, and besidesyou might forgetthe friend you promisednever to forget,so let this be for anyone who diedin this season of death,which from now onwill be full of facescoming forward,smiling from the pagelike the line hastilyformed backstagethat stands beforethe curtain, and bows,then follows its spotinto the shadeof scenery and props.
The other camels hobbled nearby snort and chuff and in general make a lot of noise betwixt them. Though they are called ships of the desert, these camels are nothing like our fishing boats. They are good for milk and their turds are spectacularly fire-worthy. But none of us have yet figured out how to…
If I get religious for a minute, it will be to keep termswith the bewildered caul of being thirteen, surrounded by the dead. What used topeek through the roof, never so much stroking string things and eating afterlifebiscuits, as making sound like a wonky piano dragging its broken leg in an interminable circleof Sundays. I…
after Issa I think it’s enough just to sit and meditate, heedlessof the needs of others close to us and oftheir perpetual demands that seem to sap thestrength from us. My doorway and the morning deware all I need to make my day, and thatis where I’ll plan to be. And if that marksme misanthropic,…
The sky was low. His head was a vase ofsorrows he wanted to fill with blossoms.He stepped into the House of Wigs. The saleslady said, “Try this one on. It’s calledthe Mind of Fire. It turns ashes into flame.Prometheus was wearing it, they say, whenhe was punished by the Gods for his compassionand he barely…
And shall we describe the beautiful bike?It was a beautiful color the beautiful bike.What ever happened to the beautiful bike?The beautiful bike rode off into the beautiful sunset.Not by itself, surely. Who was pedaling the beautiful bike?You, you were the one pedaling the beautiful bikelast seen disappearing into the beautiful sunset. Now I remember the…
Translated from the Spanish by Jesse Lee Kercheval Ocean, there is nonewithout shipwrecks, without the drownedwithout victimsthere is no oceanthat does not lick the shore like a sore or a wound.
Translated from the Spanish by Jesse Lee Kercheval I ask where the things go that did not arrive at their destination. Themajority of things. The largest inventory in the world. Where are theygoing to end up, the things that do not end up anywhere. Those thatfail, those that have no remedy. I ask where do…
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