Poetry

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Whenever I am leafing through a book and come upon a      single hair, for a moment I believe it belongs to the author, and that the book, too, is still the author's, and I must      give it back. Then I come to my senses. Usually, it is just a hair from a      mustache, and then…

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He stood before a sea of envelopes, as others stand over a plunging surf. One by one he began to open them, to read the letters inside. Since he had no hope of replying, he pictured them adrift in the distance. Free to walk by the water, he did. He saw the wild ducks, far…

Aperture

Although they fashioned their spears on the lathe of our technology we had to admit we liked watching them with their bare chests and heavy metal candor they lent a sort of backyard charm to the universe until even the doctor and his assistant were snapping their fingers nodding their heads and using everything they…

Broken Egg

Coming from the wings, he leapt onto the raised opera-set built to lift his libretto—ten years of work— into the national atmosphere of fanfare, and he missed: down on his stomach, pasted prone, a spread-eagled grunt, and a gasp from the audience that sucked up applause for the two or three seconds it took him…

Landscape With Visionary Blue

Ripsaw whine across the picture dome of day dividing blue from blue: the steady Munch-like scream of Flight 630's engines as we sat there minute after minute on the runway trapped, until I saw my broken body kicked & pitching forward, one more dead American sure he was going someplace else, dumped instead onto the…