I am writing my heart out here. In a kitchen, two towns away, my friend Fanny is doing likewise. She sits surrounded by her children like a patient plant. When we telephone each other the children come into our ears like static; stereo commotion: they cling to us like clay. When we sit down to…
My first substituted coughing for breathing. It had no nose no eyes just a smooth feverish body: incurable tenderness. My second did have a nose brown eyes and soft full gums. She looked like my uncle the one I’d only seen pictures of — the one I knew I’d have loved the best. This baby…
1. Always I feel it bloating like a tumor a weight, a shape brushing my thighs as I wade into sleep. The water is warm like my blood flat as a kitchen table my face dances there in sun circles the water is a caress. Then a fin breaks the surface coming fast. 2. You…
Ol’Sam he go by the code of the hills, he paddle his raft into Teaberry Mills an gun down all the squares. “Take that, you rats!” he spit through his teeth, he toss’em a dead skunk for a wreath an fiddle away his cares. The woods she perk up all her ears, O m’darlin dance…
Put my glad rags in a cardboard box — This old jiggerboo never grew mature. Is everthing in its place except me? Don’t be surprised; I called all day And the only person I could reach was The operator; and it’s a sorry day when Nothing is coming down but your foot. And how deep…
Thomas Gray, 27 March 1767 Fine, but cold. Wd. Brisk at N.E. Saw the Maloc Proscargh: abroad: it was the male. Pilewort in bloom: & Red Currant on a North wall. Gnats stinging. Mrs. Mason Died.
Bang! 1917 & a Victorian Milan. That bang was the Garcia Crespo works gone up from munitions, 400 women, their long hair gone, have gone up with 150,000 rounds. Vickers guns emplanted on the line stayed quiet for two days near Trieste. A company of Yugoslavs convinced themselves that peace had come, threw down their…
Recipe For Painting Gates (18th century) Six pounds: melted pitch. Half a mutchkin: linseed oil. One pound: brick dust. Mix well together. Use it warm.
No matter what’s the photograph, you’re the man in the center always making sense. Look through the family album, grandma’s first beau, the nice guy who, vaguely, disappeared. Dad in the leather flier’s jacket, a plane called ANZIO BELLE. In the background’s the waist gunner they chipped out of a pile of shells & frozen…
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