The old city rushes into me as soon as the planedescends, and my drunk bravado shudders.I swear to myself that I will not confrontmy family with my suffering this time around.I’ll be a civilized person instead and keeplongstanding resentment to myself. Even the partof me that is gristle and nerve is strangelyquiet. The dot dot…
O cotton-headed kissful. Tender likingof my broken skin. Fierce betrayal of instinctwrapped in embers and undiagnoses. I have missed you.I think you might have been just the firstof my forbidden desires, artifact of my deep impulseto transition a thing to another thing.Take medicine and turn it into a weapon.We knew each other over Wednesday night…
I don’t know what death is either, I think, unplugging the earbuds and ordering a decaf latte, iced. I don’t know where my father is, or mother, or where to tell my daughter she can find me. I watch the barista make the espresso shots—her down-to-there, sapling arms, the left one hanging lifeless while the…
When I needed a Barden bumper for my bumper-less truck, I walked through a junkyard: bolts & gauges on the ground, wheels rolling nowhere or steering nothing, dead headlights illuminated by sunbeams. A bird alit on chrome. I shivered at the delicacy of what I could not see: a laugh & This is my favorite…
So few souls …that’s what they called the serfsin 19th century Russia in all those booksyou saved but that in the end couldn’t save you back.I would have thought a better turnout,more like the Second Comingbut without the judgement, just the music:“the wind that sweeps the streets of heaven.”Among believers, and I’m not one,there’s disagreement…
You will never finish your lifethe way you intended.The bed you will never get up fromis not the one you wanted,by a lake or river’s edgewhere the light toucheseach bird awakeexcept the onethat kept watch all night.
It is like a long tunnel, the strange, shallow light of the hospital hallwayshining against all the stainless steel they always put around those kindsof places. The steel shines a dark, tunnelish light. A feeling of objectivitythey want to impart to you. Like, your baby has died. Objectively. I readonce that they change a person…
Remember the snowed-in highway, the saloon dressed up like a chalet, the auroral sunset falling minute by minute on that lonely desert town? And him watching me as I played dead in the snow— like a salt flat, the snow outside so bright even at dusk and midnight— until I opened my eyes and saw…
I hurt, my mother said over and over, and powerless to end her misery, we hurt in kind and never quite enough. I am sorry, I said. I say it still. I apologize for experience, aka the world, who could not be here today and sends her condolences. I am sorry, I say from a…
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