Every garden dreams of being Eden: rosebushes or wildflowers, it hardly matters as long as the hum of bees remains peaceable and the door to the grave stays hidden beneath a swath of grass. In the cooling afternoon each flower relaxes on its pedestal of stem, and the gardener too dreams, under a tree weighted…
For Karen and Aria In the Namib fat sand rats saunter through all the continents of their own personal deserts I started this poem thinking about Orpheus, because I am always thinking about Orpheus, strumming as the dead stir all the while, looking for death’s hawk-shaped smear, looking for amaranth seeds small as the…
The world resembles a phantom vessel destined to sail but never reach a port. The kidnapping victim bound to a sawmill tries to loosen the ropes in vain as electric sparks shower down, unsure if help is on the way. Later in life he will apprentice with a sailor and learn to pull apart every…
I’m only leaving you for a handful of days, but it feels as though I’ll be gone forever— the way the door closes behind me with such solidity, the way my suitcase carries everything I’d need for an eternity of traveling light. I’ve left my hotel number on your desk, instructions about the dog and…
The dancer’s dying words: get my swan costume ready. No one stirs from her bed. Elsewhere a hollowed pharaoh lies with fingers and toes capped in golden thimbles as a sandstorm thickens outside. A human-headed bird evacuates his body by day and at night returns to nest in his emptied stomach. The purpose of mummification…
I. It came in like a quiet boat at night. We still don’t know who sent it or why. Some days it makes us shake. We kept on cooking for each other and bathing ourselves. We looked at children but the music of Chopin always replaced the sight of them. In its coming, it took…
She accepts all invitations, asking me what else she’s supposed to do. It’s all you can do, I tell her, apart from staying home every night, which is where I was when she phoned from the party, the kind I used to frequent as part of my own new life, but no longer do. I…
They thought the job would be more musical: Rainbows and trumpets. They’d burst through clouds of marble streaked with flame and offer blinding demonstrations of the ontological proof of God. People would look up and say “Ineffable!” Instead, they swooped through the mall calling Ashley? Pammy? fished Mrs. Baines’ wedding ring from the drain again,…
for Little Milton & Charlie Rich Memphis, City of the Dead, City of Sun and blight, Soulsville, rest stop for hell they gone and run off. Tonight I dog you like a broken trombone. Twice I’ve ended here on Union past midnight, brain looted by morphine, the tremolo pinch of train steel across the Frisco…
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