There is a wall I lean at when the ice breaks apart the house. Heaving knives of wood rum and milk. I bite hands. Clean in planes intimate with hooks pounded falling air. Sun went badly hail slapped up asps. […]
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Hospital (2)
There’s picture I take of some of me catching bone from city floor. Tearing houses to numb eyes. Sent from the objects. Fires seen shooting from heads. Death flower sifted ash as if it were many. Floors […]
Sonnet, with home
1. My wife once said I should write more love poems. 2. So I wrote a poem about sloth moths. 3. There really was love in it—to a certain moth, a sloth is home. 4. Home is another word for love. 5. I hope that doesn’t sound trite. 6. Actually, I don’t care if it does. 7. Today I thought I should […]
With a Little Help from My Friends
“I am large, I contain multitudes.” —Walt Whitman How, exactly, do I address you, Mixotricha paradoxa? The pronouns get caught in my throat. There’s the core of you—a paramecium sorta guy—but hairy. Those hairs, though, all quarter million of ‘em, are each tiny curlicue bacteria, other beings, rowing in synchrony, pushing you around that sludge […]
from The Book of Evidence by John Banville
I had expected to arrive in rain, and at Holyhead, indeed, a fine, warm drizzle was falling, but when we got out on the channel the sun broke through again. It was evening. The sea was calm, an oiled, taut meniscus, mauve-tinted and curiously high and curved. From the forward lounge where I sat the […]
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News & Notes
12/19/15: The Penultimate Piece Just posted the next-to-last work for Winter 2015. But that’s just the beginning. Still to come: the online/web Season, the PDF/eBook Season, updated author and title indices and a free contest featuring some Winter Season authors. Oh, and announcing our Winter 2015 donation to Room to Read! 9/1/15: Launch Day! We just […]
“You’re the Tower and I Am Rapunzel, She Says” by Christopher Lowe
And I let her climb my back, feet and knees knocking hard on the backs of my thighs, my kidneys, my neck, before she settles herself on my shoulders and calls for her Prince to come and rescue her, to come and take her away from this tower, to teach her love, and she says, […]
My Sad Farm
My sad farm was never funny just tons of work. Work we finished too early and too late. In the summer we were cowboys loading white-faced calves at cow camp up in the mountains. In winter we shoveled and chewed all over again. Our inventions actually worked. Well. One poem didn’t let go of another. […]