Stories tagged poem

wolf shirts

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Guys who wear wolf shirts sign the backs rather than the fronts of cheques.

Dancing Beneath a Gazebo

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We learned to dance beneath a gazebo / in Spring Lake Park / We were fourteen

Eddie Says

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At night they floated through my dreams / like paper dolls, whole flocks of them, / in synchronous motion, hatless / even in winter, lest they muss their hair.

The Simplicity Being Enough

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You read my poems, Not because you like them, But just to find yourself, Mentioned in them.


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no need to scour the world for portents

Go Yonder and Worship, part 1

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In the blue of the yard the twins boil and scrape, twisting about beneath the sycamore tree.

Getting Back to Zero

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If the train moves slow and your head is full of bloodyou can look downward andsee where you came from. If your eyes have swollen and seem ready to pop forth from your skull, you can alwaysstop seeing and feel…

Black Wheat

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Black Wheat They left their great need behind when they were taken out of the country. They seem to live without thought of that blood. They do not respond to anything that calls to it. They seem shallow. They feed on image alone. Blood does not

Blind Man With Brown-Eyed Girl

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Blind Man with Brown-Eyed Girl A blind man walking by with a good-looking girl, who sees. So she describes herself for him. “My eyes are brown, dark and wide.” He says: “I asked the sky what it meant. Naisiusiu. You know, the sound that

Blue Grass

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To find Kentucky...

Some Girl

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No matter how many times I brought someone home, down into the basement, after awhile there came the knocking on the door at the head of the stair: “Jerry, what are you doing down there? It’s ten o’clock already, for heaven’s sake. Dad and I are

Good Use

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I found a field where all the unanswered prayers were once buried but someone someone someone had dug them up again and was putting them to good use

Kronos and Thorns

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In the rose garden Beneath a clump of weeds

To My Future Ghost

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Oh, by the way here’s my old phone number 548-7899 Remember? Call me It will ring somewhere in the past We can make amends

The Faceless Girl Tells Stories

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spreading gilded pages with a tlickt