There's a train coming down the pike. We were Hilary, Pat, Lori and me. I haven't thought of them since that day in Abergavenny. We'd set out for Wales, Lori and I knapsack-backed. She with the feather in her purple hat. Hilary and Pat came east and tacked through Dublin to meet us at Abergavenny….
A cold Sunday morning in early December. The first snow. All night long the sky hung heavy with a locked-in gathering flood. Then at dawn the first snow came. The first snow. Looking at the sky, Rachel, who lives twenty blocks away, sees at dawn the first snow come, drawing a veil between her house…
Although it stands between the kidnappers and me There's the baby's cry again the third time this long night Although it stands between me and the kidnappers and testifies There the lights are out They're all finally asleep And testifies to what I suppose I must call my freedom I don't like to look on…
We pulled into her driveway, kissed TV-style: no tongues. Oh, twice or so I dumped my tongue against her clenched teeth. No go. She pulled away, curled a loose strand of hair behind her ear and patted it. Then nervously she asked, “At your house when you spill your milk or something, does your mom…
To his own people, Robinson became a modern John Henry who instead of driving steel, laid down iron taps. —from Jazz Dance hip hop ain't no hula hoop backs of legs out front electric boogie knock-kneed bird of the Zulu nation chicken pecking hip hopping out of devastated lots out of Crenshaw Heights and Watts…
(BA-LAM!) “They're coming in from close to 12 o'clock!” (by which was meant not time but running out of time) “Well this is for that Axis stooge and his boss The Scarlet Claw!” (ackackack: gunner fire) “They've blasted me, Captain Miii. . .” (the fading out of a sturdy Midwestern voice) “You're not a goner…
harriet. araminta ross. tubman. when once was now when i stood a woman red as dust blood sundown calling my ancestors over my dead child when once they scarred my head i took to the woods an iron full of buckshot stole myself back crowned myself a general took a hundred walks to set slaves…
we forgot to clear your grave, so we stood around talking about the bus trip, the driver who checked his mirror to see the cars hinging upon his line. We talked about those who lay next to you: a Henderson, a McCabe, a great uncle who no one could remember anything about—we looked for snakes….
Ringed like Saturn, walls surround gates surround moats, your tiny room sits at the flaming core. I brush the showy lilac. Pass the hall of beggars, and door goddess, her waist burdened with sticks. By noon I've seen gardens, temples, tasted the plush, smoky breath of the food taster. You rise to greet me, then…
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