Flowers I didn’t like God or else nature must have had some brief happiness over. But it’s just forgetfulness for an old goddess like me, goddess of the moon, of hunting, of chastity once, since now I have changed. My opened flowery bosom went on to bec

From 'Excelsior' (fifth section) - a poem in 9 parts. So this is what begins at thirty? Thirty-five, And waiting. Those make love with water mildly, they That sink and skim the tide's meridian fingers: Brown swans that bob the blue orb's plumbing sheer. So this has…

1. There is a crowd of people walking to a field and since there are over forty of them, the conversations become divided and then subdivided in accordance w/natural rhythms. I follow behind. It is a football game. Makeshift. Twenty aside roughly. Almost every…

I stayed by the idiot king in his box, never ranging far, never letting the box out of my sight.

"Is a dream a lie if it don't come true, or is…

She also, wearing the requisite Hawaiian lei in this naked wedding photograph, but her low-swung breasts were hanging all the way down to her navel. Her navel itself appeared to be about as round and deep as a shot glass. There was this smear of gaudy flu

In an area of high winds and strong convictions, I have lived among the ever-changing crowd that is always the same. I must have died overnight, and now my wings are flapping in my own face. I used to be an owl, a night owl, to be sure

“Hrrumph!” was almost audible as she turned/ to sniff behind the chifferobe for fresh/ green trophies.

Split streams displace a spliced and shattered walkman with no connection of its dead batteries, projected into Styrofoam and plastic mirrors before hitting the brook water. Michael finds way, out of breath, eclipsed by an elm, his eyes visible with pupil

The room is cold, like an icy bath. Enough to make Earl's testicles shrivel up in fear. He could hear the angry children outside act out a primeval play, where it sounded like bones were being slammed into rocks with clumsy small hands. The edge of the table…

On the phone I asked my mother how she was doing. “I’m getting old,” she said. “Going slow. But getting there. I’m ninety-four!” My mother was always 94, when she was really 93. I remember she was 93, right after she turned 92. And 92 when she was

Do you mind if we cut the attack on the settlers, asked Sitting Bull. But that’s the center attraction, said Buffalo Bill. Everyone expects it. But it’s a lie, a gross misrepresentation, said Sitting Bull. I feel like I am endorsing a great fraud.

My lover passes the healing comb through the hair of my soul during the night as she retouches my youth

what happens to literature's characters when their readers traverse the veil?

“You want me to come out there and repossess that froofy coffee you’re drinking?” he snaps, sending Corrallo up the steps and onto the street to lick his wounds.