Night whisperer, your hair’s tangled skeinof silver brushes our brows and the pastcomes crackling back, each jolt of joy or painas fresh, as strange, as when it struck us first. Daughter of thrumming earth and voiceless sky.Flame-keeping saint, yes, and two-timing slut;barnacle, shedding snake, and butterflyat once. Or farmer, sowing rows of doubt. To Zeus…
The image is of anOocyte breaking freefrom its containingcell wall an almost full moon framedby a whisper curlwhippoorwillof cloudthen later a rainbow tinged frame from below like a sill portends a bonfirefor May culminationsYour birthday again Your experiments are Experiencestranslated into French O so tiredbut seethe lines connectingyou & meme & thee & he light goinginto me goes…
Crop of white furrowssown by splintered light.Pure cold, produce me.Brown mud un-burrowsgreen bark of the coniferwhose needles never leave.
“When he is very ferocious with me I cry;that sets all things straight,” Charlotte Brontë wrote.This passage strikes me as a little sly,yes? In it, Brontë almost seems to gloatabout the way that she has weaponizedher tears, her God-given power to emote.A male biographer once characterizedBrontë as “meek” on the basis of this quote—a reading…
Fourth Movement I was a man with one cow,one cow and no wife. I was a manwith clean shirts and no wife and one cow.I had strong shoes, pants with no knees.I had a bed. I was a man who sleptwithout his shoes, dreaming of one wifeand two cows. My shirts, which I did notwear…
Called widow makers because their branches fallduring droughts. They sever their own branches to conserve water, to save the whole tree. As if cuttingoff a hand to save a whole body. How does the tree decide what to drop? This one dropped two limbs,one onto a car. It only took the men a day to remove the…
No matter where I went todayI was not Michael.I was not even the shadowof my middle name.No name took my place,no name was asked.When I sat on a benchthinking of you, tryingto see your face,I was not Michael—I knew because the rainchose to fall nearbut not upon me,and it wasn’t to makean exception.People were walking…
Friday—first day of fall Two friends, two beers each. One has just held the hand of theother’s dying mama, regaling her with tales of her son’smisadventures. He’s moving to Houston the next day, far intothe flooding swamp. Mama is quiet, peaceful, pain-free. Go, shesays, go have a good time. After the two beers the friends…
My roommate was having an argumentwith his girlfriend: It’s the wrong key. No it’s not. Well it isn’t working. Once you and I had disagreements like that,I ended it. But there was a pointwhen I had a codeto your front door. People had the wrong idea about us.No socks on the stairswas one of your…
No products in the cart.