Which is to say we kissed many strangers today, so many mouths without knowing. Both of us date someone else now, though lock eyes through pinholes of cheap latex, despite the guises’ vacant stares– these two, skeletons. Admire the wrinkles of bendable skull-skin. Remember our bones– last summer, our bodies thin crackers. Could snap first sink of snow but we… Read more →
In winter, we warmed our hands over the heat of the open oven, talked about Gershwin and James Galway, Tolkien and the pigeons who pecked the curb outside. Once, a sugar maple blew over in my back yard. The unearthed roots were clogged and tangled with dirt, a blackening half-moon bigger than your silver Honda, bigger than the standing tree… Read more →
You are white marble and tin when you are angry, edges as sharp as soup can tops lined up on the counter. Draws a little blood, smacks of exhaustion and charity. Canned plums for dinner again because you’ve gone to bed on this day the Lord has made even though I made you promise to never let the sun set… Read more →
According to a Stanford University study, only 3% of the U.S. population continues sleepwalking into adulthood. (I) Last night I woke, startled— thought he was lost: milk-starved and terrified. New… Read more →
The bananas perch in the bowl, severed as a woman’s hand. I am undressing in the kitchen, want you to touch me, severed as a woman’s hand. Divorce me, if you want to, I want you to touch me right here, in the kitchen lights— Divorce me if you want, I know what this looks like right here, in the… Read more →
we were playing ping pong or mah jongg or ding dong the witch was dead on arrival or at a revival she was borne out or again in a hearse but what’s worse she was cooking the books or with gas up a storm and for looks she was normally over the hill or the flu or somewhere over the… Read more →
tv quits can’ting and smokes much And I quit tv and I too can’t smoke watch tv, … Read more →
‘Because you chose it.’ Says the author of the article
after Job When no one is here, I eat all the cheesecake with my unwashed hands. I’ve forgotten what my face looks like, as I will forget yours. I feel a pounding, sharp wings or stones shaking, African violets. Branches—what grows there? At night I sleep on a couch near… Read more →
My grandfather creates clocks, grandfather clocks, and it seems unpoetic now though it used to seem ironic and canny, before I knew what irony was, before I’d read Freud and swore off meat and milk on Mondays for the boys out to war. He converted his daughter’s doll room into a clock repair shop, gears and glass faces spilling out… Read more →