I cried in public again. Drive,I said to my beloved, drive. I can’thave people watch me cry. It’s bad enoughwatching people watch me touch fruit atthe grocery store. Prickly pear glaringacross the sweet heaps. It’s not my faultthe citrus is too soft. It’s not my faultyou blame me. But maybe no onewas watching me cry,…
Translated by Iain Galbraith |one’s still clatteringin the box, in safekeepinglike a child’s first tooth iand then it is struckin the thickest darkness: ah!here i am. or was.
Translated by Ming Di Five: Pedigree of watermelons No one mistakes a watermelon for a meteorite.The theory of watermelons vs. stars is completely irrelevant.But we cannot deny that the earth is a kind of star.Therefore, it’s implausible to deny that watermelons have thelineage of stars. Four: Watermelon, ancestral hometown We live outside the earth, obviously.Obvious, that…
Big Spring, Arrow Rock, MO The body records its absences. Water, you take waterinto it—as presence, as absence, deep into the archiveof water you throw your mask. Also, your other mask.We, being matter, are negotiated. I had not thoughtto be angry, as such. But rage flexes its majestic undoing,its sustaining negation. The reparations the body…
And when I awoke, I saw that I was gone. Just like that, the woman Ithought I knew, gone into the morning like the mockingbird’s song.After all these years, it was a bit of a surprise, even though I had seen itcoming, the way you see a train approaching from afar, crawling alongthe tracks, silent…
After Hadrian Go, little sister,Flesh-flap peeledFrom blistered heel, Yellow pellicleSkimmed with a forkOff scalded milk. Where will you go,How far on wind-whistleTo marrow within a creature Not yet bornWhen I become no longerYour bodied brother? Vanishing twin, forever young,No reason to mournAs worms unfasten my tongue.
Translated by Katherine M. Hedeen and Victor Rodríguez Núñez each morning I wonder at my face:the same as always! Shouldn’t we reach the dawnwith face changed?After a new wordour lips should have a different feel! Only the beloved manages such a miracleface sheds featuresbefore the vision of the only otherwho creates it. Oh death that…
—worth it?My soul looks back and wondershow I left behind that tether, which, a burden so long,had become a life more truethan my memory of having been without it: a friend saying, “Ilove you, but not enough,” then nevertrying toward enough or letting me go. The soul says “Go” and I followthat voice offthe edgeless…
Objects heavy enough to break us hangfrom the thinnest of threads. A stray breezeand down they come. But they say that spider silkis five times stronger than steel, which might bewhy spiders look so buff. I know that I wouldn’twant to run into one in a dark alley, or any alleyfor that matter, though matter…
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