Is it a vanishing point or is it Brooklyn into which the cables run Brooklyn over which these two these shadowy walkers come against the shaded rails against the future in the arcades in the bridge the parallels above them in midair § Under a clatter of fire…
Regard a tree. Who would have better seized light’s longing? Longing a labor is first, is first. First the cold path of it. (Bring water.) Egregious is a few steps over wet stones hai ailala or you might miss it Shirred up, wet against the grain silica might call out …
for my son, Klemente Gilbert-Espada In 1898, with the infantry from Illinois, the boy who would become the poet Sandburg rowed his captain’s Saint Bernard ashore at Guánica, and watched as the captain lobbed cubes of steak at the canine snout. The troops speared mangos with bayonets like many suns thudding with shredded yellow flesh…
Turned from the camera’s eye, hovering, between river & bridge, the hung woman looks downstream, & snagged in the air beside her, the body of her young son. They are tassels on a drawn curtain; they are the closed eyes of the black boy who will find them while leading his cow to the riverbank;…
freedom is what you can buy with a song. after the song has been soldered into your lungs. after the song has beaten its way inside your dreams. after the song has snuck its way into your bed. after the song has knuckled you under. after the song has festered and blossomed and festered again….
A spring wind hustles hundreds of pages into the street, discarded leaflets like pieces of a shredded textbook under the feet of high school students let out for lunch. A young woman bends and grasps a flier: sliver of promise, passport to enter through the golden arches, gateway to the west, up escalator to immediate…
The furrows deepen on your forehead as you watch the TV story of Chief Joseph. Later, as your amber eyes—two villages, fade into the darkness, I deliver a knockout without mercy, “Does marrying me make you feel good?” Some have been known to bob up with “Somewhere in my bloodline is a Cherokee.” Your sad…
what about their celibacy? widow playing maid for an in-law and if high-born inheriting three thousand not more shaving her head wearing only white I do not know this law lying on my lord’s burning branches I do not mind getting old my forehead creases though my mouth still turns up I love trying on…
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