I have a thing for blind people. “Everybody’s got a thing,” says Stevie Wonder, but I don’t think he’s talking about the same thing I’m talking about. I think he’s talking about sex. My thing isn’t sexual and I’ve never actually had sex with a blind person, though I did come pretty close once with … Continue reading
Tag Archives: Paul Hostovsky
Fall 2009 / Issues / Poetry 2009 / Volume 40
God, Dan — Paul Hostosvsky
I was a junior and Dan was a senior drug addict in the school of arts and sciences. Neil Young was a prolific songwriter with no allegiances, except for the music. I had never done cocaine before, so while he was cutting it on the square mirror on top of the dresser, I put on … Continue reading
C. Bowen, Plumber — Paul Hostovksy
I like this guy before we even meet. He’s the only one who called me back, and then he wipes his feet for a very long time on the mat before coming inside with a little bow and setting our bravely for the upstairs bathroom a few steps behind me like a lieutenant or a … Continue reading
Boxy Poem for Mr. Beck — Paul Hostovsky
Mr. Beck taught gym and sex education back when there wasn’t a curriculum per se. So he mostly punted in the classroom, relating blow-by-blow what he and his wife had done the night before. It was x-rated and educational. You had to hand it to him for thinking outside the box that was our classroom; … Continue reading
The Only Question — Paul Hostovsky
She was very beautiful. Exceptionally beautiful. But beautiful in the way of certain sudden realizations, like: my god, is it raining? or: look how huge the moon! Continue reading
Smelly Poem — Paul Hostovsky
What is that evil stench, you ask yourself, looking around for its source, its etiology, its home, if smells can be said to have homes. It’s a homeless sort of smell, a sodden- socks, ratty-sneakers, urine-in-a-doorway sort of smell. You don’t suppose it could be coming from that pretty girl with the flawless skin and … Continue reading
