I am the lion. I am the keeper of the keys. Black hats float upon the waters. When I think, I’m sad; when I don’t, I’m elated, over-joyed. Dazzled by the silverblackbacked mirrorwings of three ravens, I follow the shadow dancers onto thin ice! Once I drank silence from a spring, Once I opened slowly…
I had a dream over and over as a child in my shimmering morning-light room, —it was set there, where I slept, woodpeckers hammering at the eaves, the river’s waves’ light moving as if forever on the far wall. I’d wake (still asleep) in the dream —I couldn’t speak!— as the two hands hovered. So…
I hate them worse than anything is what was beating up her head. She ran so fast, you’d have thought the dog was on her. Except Prank had disappeared three months back and was buried in a bullshit coffin off the alley. Worse than anything…worse than tomatoes…worse than milk…worse than…worse than anything. She was just…
A brick warehouse, a cold morning, and Newark in the distance. Bleak is how I take my coffee, inside a shipping container while a plane cranks by. Thinking something about “the bloom of youth” something I’ve lost something a man would feel right saying but which sits under my tongue, unwanted pill. I do take…
Remember the night it snowed in a place we were told would never snow and like two shadows cast by a lamp standing in the presence of a Greater we walked the beach the sand’s grit limpid the expanse of what I didn’t know endlessly swallowing the floes the ocean has always been immutable and…
The case is now closed on the reasons behind the decision by the United Nations to officially terminate the existence of Israel as a living entity, an event that occurred about a century after it had voted for the partition of the Holy Land leading to the establishment of the Jewish State in 1948. But…
The deer has the eyes of a deer in headlights. I must have them too, sitting in the car, driving. The deer came out of nowhere. It is magic. It’s the kind of magic you wish wouldn’t happen. The deer must be thinking the same about me. The road came out of nowhere, this man…
Our dead will not congregate but come to us, distinctly, as they were: her stooped majesty, his cold dreamy self, that darling girl’s sly smile, which could be why, when I have them meet in heaven or here at night in my room, they make absolutely clear in the way they don’t open their mouths…
In the train, in the dim glass, you, long dead, slip your face over mine. A mask, a shade, a past that is somewhere there, in the dark but not here, nor in any other scored-out street my dog-eared notebook holds, not here, your voice gone, your name caught in a fold of paper in…
No products in the cart.