That comes from a 14th-century poem too long for me to care to read just yet. If I’m going to read a long poem, it better be something translated from Greek, not a tongue like mine, albeit much different than my tongue. Besides, bird shoe really comes from a Greek philosopher who called it character instead of what I misheard… Read more →
A bird once gave me a list of ancient bird songs, a list of songs written in birdsong deemed to be among the greater songs, the classic bird songs. It was a day of curious longing. Winged things cannot be translated. No matter how one tries, the translation will be wrong. But my new friend did not seem to mind… Read more →
Of the fish in the Pine Bluff mall. Of being fishbowled in the skylit octagon of a rubber pond, the soft give of the lily pads beneath his hands and feet, the polished echo of a hollow log. Most of all he remembers the cool, dappled surface of the fish’s mouth against his palms, the quiet inside the body. There… Read more →
Scallops swung back and forth on the eelgrass, up sprouting from the sand of the ocean floor. Theyclumpedtogether, cozy and clinging to the blades. We felt bad each time We plucked one from its home. We imagined that some of these scallops could have been lovers cuddling up in bed together, or friends s t a r g a z… Read more →
This story is not what it seems. This story is less about men glistening in darkness than a winter followed by another winter. To be in the snow is to know the hunger for bitter fruit, the burn of bourbon going down. When Lot went outside his house he was searching for meaning, for something that dazzled. A satchel of… Read more →
I’d bust this bank. I’d light a flame that flickers everything. Looking out at the water, I wouldn’t be afraid of wolves just because a mansion is more of a person than a person is. I wouldn’t need to find fish to hold heaven in my hand. The night of my wedding I’d throw my red rags away and put… Read more →
(i) you spill drinks everywhere you go like you want people to know your butterfingers can’t hold anything together. what a disaster. tablecloths dry in the sun. your stain on the family name will haunt us forever. a spill of bloody mary is one thing but a whole jar? that white shirt is a bloodbath. i wish it was your… Read more →
at the new indian restaurant downtown, they fire up the tandoor. half tablespoon pepper, one teaspoon salt. that’s it? you make a joke about shitting your pants. i laugh, say sorry, pay for our meal. can we stop by the grocery store so i can buy enough chillies to burn your cold heart? not spicy enough. my bad, i thought… Read more →
Cool summer spills down my daughter’s chin and throat. All those flavonoids breaking the blood-brain barrier. I used to buy eight pounds from a guy with a truck, carry them home cradled in their cardboard beds. Sometimes, the flesh yielded, other times, I tore it off the stone. Sometimes, I let the sun dry the juice on my face, other… Read more →
In the beginning of consciousness, I sat with you at the Suffolk school playground marble drain, we felt joy—not winning—not losing. You, were present. Welcomed into the front room to sit. I wanted your mind to film the glass deer, crocheted covers; listen to the Jim Reeves 33 LP. I did not see you race by me in your teens…. Read more →