Above-board, we sail

My grandmother and her children spent six weeks living in barns, then were taken for a three day nightmare ride in hot cattle cars to Auschwitz.

The book has known many women’s hands, something erotic and frequently checked out from our local library. Its cover depicts a man and a woman, both with improbable if not impossible bodies. I believe the term is bodice-ripper.

Sixteen hundred hens / suffocated / during the collection

That Bronte woman had me painted like Eminem’s Stan Or a droog from Kubrick

The Lorelei is my sherris ; Ibibio shall not want. Head count maketh me to lie down in green patchwork: Head count leadeth me beside the still watercress. Head count restoreth my sounding: Head count leadeth me in the pathway of Rig Veda for his Namen…

I am quite the wreck!

I walk back home, alone and without the bus fare. Distancing myself from the shadows that float interminably against the drowsy sun. Where frightened boys often roam, going in circles against the long lines of epitaphs and gravestones. Puzzling…

...filled with the wildness, the inner sensibility of brilliance.

You sawed off my wings then Asked

—That was harsh, said Jen as the bathroom door slammed behind Melanie. —Mel's my best friend, not yours. She needed to know that shade of blue doesn't go with olive skin. —Viv, you said she looked like a whore. —That's how our friendship…

A man lives with a woman he loves enough to live with, but not enough to marry and not enough for kids. He knows he could love others enough to marry, enough for kids, but he's not the kind of man to find those women when he's with this woman.Sometimes “love”…

I never looked at her face.

The artist glides through an art supply store looking for a color within. She can feel the color, but she can't name it. She can almost see it, but it's not that kind of color. It's not like, say, blue or red, a primary color that animates flags or exotic ceremonies.…

...and we laughed.