Why don’t you relax a little bit, drop the pen and forget the letters. oh, Paul, haven’t you ever Seen a woman with her hair down, arching her back like a sleepy cat? it makes circumcision feel so Unimportant—all this angry ink bled over a third eyelid when you could be over another body, inking … Continue reading
Tag Archives: magazine
Civitate Dei — William Spencer
I look around for a frame free of artifice. At best I get cigar smoke blown through a harmonica in C. Behind my head is the lowest quality conversation I’ve ever heard. Earlier, locals pointed weapons at me from porches as I walked by. They informed me that I wasn’t from this neighborhood. If I’m … Continue reading
Virginia — William Robison
Virginia took me walking down the railroad tracks the Rock Island line north of the trestle across Bayou Boeuf where Richard jumped in to avoid being crushed by the oncoming train I couldn’t have been more than three or four Virginia was as old as the Pyramids working for a white woman less than half … Continue reading
The Cat on Page Ten (reading Animal Farm)
Bluebell howls vicious in an instant “Are the rats our brothers?” Pig asks, fat on wisdom he calls us comrades I belong to nothing but myself — a no-name feline curled between flanks He complains about lack of food bare bones, I feed on prey caught only with claws kibble belongs to the dogs Paw … Continue reading
Taxidermy — Jill Whitehouse
Posed natural to last steel rod through chest, eyes of glass fill sockets —still empty— don’t betray memories of brine in lungs or sutures. People declare their love, never ask where the rest went. Continue reading
Walt Disney — Daniel Poppick
The tide a weird princess, I come to memorize her codes of skin Goose-fleshing in my wake while Currencies of plastic thicken The air above the water. I sift through them on the nightly row I do for her carrot Despite the chill. Her sea is full of information Glittering as the green Carriage she … Continue reading
An Argument for the Twentieth Century — Daniel Poppick
There are gods who define the word grass and other gods in the shape of grass itself. You say the word before climbing into the dining room through the window. You try to walk lightly, to diminish the sound of broken glass snapping on hardwood floor. You have a part to play tonight. Your audience, … Continue reading
