Poetry

It wasn’t my grandfather’s. He lectured at Tremont Hall On a snowy night. As a starter—just to break the ice—he cracked: “I’m glad the both of you could come.” There wasn’t even scattered laughter In the half empty house. After his peroration And after he had swept off back stage His Prince Albert skirts Breezing…

     Several miles in the distance clouds of dust rose hundreds of feet in the air, marking the passage of the more than two hundred thousand pilgrims who were making their way deep into the phosphate-rich Spanish Sahara.      Frankie pulled her white illustrated T-shirt over her head and bared her firm young breasts to the onslaught…

“You can be so inconsiderate.”                        ”You are too sensitive.” “Then why don’t you take my feelings into consideration?”                              ”If you weren’t so sensitive it wouldn’t matter.” *     *      * “You seem to really care about me only when you want me to do something for you.”            ”You do…

     The past has left its mark on you.      One Saturday afternoon you and a number of other people went for a ride on Lake Erie in a friend’s new boat. It was cold and overcast and the boat began to fall to pieces several miles from shore. The builder had obviously not put it together…

The Bronze Statue                 (Léon-Paul Fargue) The frog on the tumbler-game in the park Gets bored at night, when it all gets dark. She thinks a statue’s life is absurd, Always about to pronounce a great word,                 The Word . . . She would rather be—as she’d often hope— Blowing bubbles of music with…

     It’s unlikely that the caravan is going to get to you at all. You’re sitting under a date palm with Jean Genet. “When slaves make love,” he says, “they’re really doing something else.”      ”What?” you’re about to ask him, when the words of Vauvenargues come to you. `It is equally a sign of weakness to…

In Rio de Janeiro, dozens of new sambas are composed for each year’s Carnival. Although sambas concerning love outnumber all others, there are always some about world events, such as landing on the moon, and Brazilian politics and life in general. This sampling from 1965, a year after the “rightest” revolution, comments on, or pokes…

508. And behold! There were blossoms in the wind, and there were blossoms in the moving letters of the death warrant, and the wind moved them not, for behold the wind was stayed in its course, and there were flocks in the river, crossing the river, and the river moved against them, and behold no…

I feel that I should introduce myself. I am X, a not very unusual person, A rather ordinary specimen of human life. At the moment I feel that I serve no purpose, Which is why I am here—I want to feel useful. Also, I find mental hospitals interesting. And I do hope you will find…