1784 3 1
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Von Meckel had us all go out and paint this huge red square around the Red Diaper Baby factory. Then he held a big naming rally, at noon, during our lunch break. We weren’t allowed to eat our sandwiches. There was all this pomp and circumstance. We were
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Not a fuss, not a stink,
The eulogy, deep, will make one think,
Grandmother, sat in back, will wink
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Dearest Z— There is no way to describe this place. It is a pendulum, caught at mid-swing or maybe just a millimeter on the up side. It is a sense of sweeping, a cleanness. Distant clouds remind me of the day we took the train and the mountains acted petulantly,…
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They looked like girl’s jeans. Matt held them against himself in the mirror. Not that girl’s jeans were a mark against them. Usually, girls had better jeans anyway. Matt took two of the biggest pairs out of the big chest in his grandmother’s back closet.
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Lips touch briefly at first
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my loosening grip on time.
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Things looked way too normal to be normal. The cold, gliding black eyed swans never once straying far from each other's wake, the cute blue jeaned lovers everyone secretly watched carefully picking their trickling way over small odd rocks and…
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My mother’s serene and patient voice flew up the staircase once again “Megan, are you done feeling sorry for yourself?”
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Palinode: A poem written to retract something said in a prior poem.
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You never knew How to express What you didn't know You felt With your words You picked on You taunted You destroyed Did it help To feel yourself Did it work To disparage Those who were Innocent and young Blameless For living …
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I once dreamed of taking a trip to Northumbria with a lover and reading the poem together on the fells.
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Diamonds are for suckers
Diamonds are for the miserable at heart
Keep that in mind when you are busy
Puffing out your chest and
Slipping on your dancing shoes
We were about to witness the release of souls
From the captivity of flames
At th
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The concrete guy’s truck is parked in front of your house. There’s nothing for him to be doing there except your wife.
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They like drugs
They are concerned with the self (alone)
and they say they are
in the world
. . .
Maybe they don't have this blood
that calls out to them
or they do not hear it
Ride in their convertibles
unconcerned
Nothing is
calle
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He had to
get over
the short bridge
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Once in a while I have the time of my life /
in this god-forsaken Earth:
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this is one of those
"there are two kinds of people"
sort of things.
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Sirens wake me, screaming warnings in the dark.
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Like the miserable sledgehammer am I, with no adjective in place to praise your moon, you are a hole well-worn into my favorite hanging rock. I've only been able to reinvent this wronged language, in which being moved…
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poetry less than poverty: / fair warning to poets, but a good sign.
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...the room was filled
with a brightness
and a breeze,
making you think
you were up in
the clouds.
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My letters are getting lost in the soup
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Instead, I get things like,
“Why can’t you find a nice man with cancer or a bum leg?”
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On the fisherman boat, we were told to place the helpless firefly squids in our mouths. I watched cheeks light up like light bulbs and I wondered how barbarism could be so beautiful.
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¿Qué habrá sucedido durante la invisible noche que se abre tras el sueño, esa Narnia en porciones individuales, para que el día se haya bestido, y con urgencia, de ira?Como si tubiera las manos bañadas en resina, intento limpiarme los ojos a zarpazos del filtro que…
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I’m sorry. We couldn’t fix the country
and left her a bigger mess than we found her
Oil leaking from her shores
earthquake batter all over her skin
We couldn’t fix her, and we’re sorry
You’ll find her wreck in tatters
at the bus st
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The shark’s voice was dark, warm and scratchy, like dying embers.
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