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…
I suppose it started with the terrible dream about airlines. When I tried to write about it the typewriter chewed through the paper, edged away from me across the table, and proceeded to issue terse, impertinent messages. It was like the beginning of Attack of the Mushroom People, when a strange fungus-like growth spelled disaster…
The meander of my walking, and through it A sun that swings to go with me at each turn, And sweet fatigue that remains childlike because It works at nothing. Push aggressively enough at the stout weave Of what is, appearances we must take as Being what they seem, and you start to tear through,…
It was gray; the air was just cool; the sky hung above me like the inside of a skull. It was easy to walk down that street. Before I thought, I had entered the brain of all the strangers but it had relaxed, it was not like noon with differences glaring in the sun. I…
For me it might be fine to wake up and weed the garden play tennis or lift a chair over my head but what about the man who moves pianos for a living or the woman who at last gives birth to one too many children what does she think of breakfast brought to her…
Having walked out in the storm and seen no end to it and nowhere to get to you watch the snow cover the ground cover itself cover everything that is not you it is a blinding fall from moment into moment the air sweeping away the air the cold turning your breath to stone no…
A Letter to 102 Boulevard Haussmann Mon cher maître, could even you have mastered such dissemblance? Given your gift for luring the accidental and the inevitable to lie down together, what would you have done with these disparities—could you have parsed them into a semblance of sense? Mind, that phoenix, Kindles its…
Time “at a premium as usual” and me drunk in the garden the birds bearing their perfected frames down the creekbed walking as straight as I can I only intersect myself Even the gardeners are drunk today their rakes fly out of their hands they hide their bottle in the hedge their pile of petals…
1. Our Inhaler At first I was suspicious, when in the heat of our getting into each other you would call for “Amy.” I wondered who it was you wanted, me or her. But when you kept coming back for both of us, I realized that losing you to her was also a way of…
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