1. I don’t want to say, “This is called . . .” when I’m the one who called it this. 2. I don’t want to explain a poem to people. I want them to explain it to me. 3. I don’t want to pull rabbits out of top hats. But I’d love to hold a…
Ann Mikolowski, 1940–1999 dead/as in center or right Goya titled his paintings of war things like Shouting’s No Good and Nobody Could Help Them Gaundi hung weights to visualize and actualize his works upside down and now strange hands have forced on a brutality that Gaundi never meant no fluidity in somebody’s else’s…
I’ve wished that I were born a Soviet, so that my presence in America would cause as greatly dignified regret as leads to literary coups d’état— but I am merely Cuban, dark and small as any from a hundred nations which exist for other’s domination. All I say is colonized, if not by rich “protectors,”…
On the black stage, near the lectern, is a delicate table, and on it, within the spotlight, are a column of cups, a clear pitcher of water, and a vase of flowers, a graceful, domestic bouquet. This will be a long evening of reading and speaking, and the flowers are not ornament. The vase of…
We skim effortlessly over ice-clogged backwater bays past mounds of snow-covered trash and weathered signs that say Ed’s Lobsters or No Diving and I am suddenly struck by how little of everything there is. A woman beside me practices Italian: Has your sister lived in Rome long? Please get me a policeman. Her husband clips…
In that hour of boundless night when dark tugs at me with its bustle and fuss and the grass outside my window, gone a deep blue, chirrs and clicks with crickets and my thoughts flop and twitch like fish in a galvanized bucket and sweat soaks the sheets, collecting in drops down my spine and…
Mid-August. Crippling heat. Torpor. Lungs weighed down by the stubborn air. Sudden, hyperbolic, dog-startling storms each afternoon, uninspired repertoire of kettle- and window-rattling. Who’d settle for an arrangement like this? Who wouldn’t? Too hot to do otherwise. Hard to think twice or overachieve in such weather. One is compelled to be dumb, to slump on…
translated by Angela Ball When dolphins follow the boats, they dress in pink to soften the hate in men’s gazes. “How can they hate us if we make love like they do?” Many say that at night the dolphins grow pubic hair and go out stealing women. The children think that the dolphins are gringos…
translated by Angela Ball The people of this town are allowed to have as many masks as they can buy. Our parents work, and we have fun playing blind man’s bluff and cowboys. The closets are full of masks, but on Halloween the chief of police prohibits disguises. That night the masks have to talk…
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