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May 30, 2014 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
I might be killed because I’m a Jew visiting a Holocaust museum or going to study Torah. I might be shot or stabbed because I’m a woman and some man feels entitled and deprived...
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April 24, 2014 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
You decided, to open up your hand and decorate my cheek with fire. A swift movement across the face. Your mistake: i. not killing me, ii. striking with bloomed digits as if for fashion, or...
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April 23, 2014 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
The winter wasn’t that long, really– forty years, you say? Forget it. Move on to spring. We’ve grown with these boulders since they were pebbles pushing the earth,...
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April 23, 2014 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
Like this city, she has been everything: best and worst, lost and found, powerful and destitute. Cut her open at the wrist and see what steel bleeds from her. She will rise again....
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April 23, 2014 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
So I survived then, didn’t I? In those harsh winter months? I took up stamp collecting. Thinking. Traveling. Why? In harsh winter, months following weather of convertibles and...
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April 22, 2014 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
for Julia Garland Murphy, my great-grandmother When my forbears homesteaded northwest Detroit to grow bushels of berries on brambles in fields, grand wagon wheels rutted dirt...
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April 22, 2014 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
The fledglings, how do they do it? And the new-furred rabbits, emerging from the nest? Something amiss is what the air, electric, must warn the starlings; the rabbits, they leave at...
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April 22, 2014 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
This first day of a new year clouds blues skies visible through the melt of smog, a light drift of noxious air smelling of burnt things. We walk the streets, quiet with the serenity of a...
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April 21, 2014 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
The vein caterpillars up, sucks it down through a glass straw, then we vanish. Its bliss, by the mean of memory can not be resurrected, only performed. Perhaps no different...
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April 14, 2014 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
When metaphors slide the scalp back to its abyss of bone. When the simile proves like more human than is. When you heard the metal rod striking bone. Yes, it is bone. The palate halved. The...
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March 16, 2014 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
when you walk up exactly six chipped and weathered stone stairs to rap gently on a door. You count the number of stairs in your throat. You count them with the dry click of your shoes. At...
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March 12, 2014 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
Like a walkway, she’d turn beneath his feet, angles becoming those of his body. Her voice looked to his vowels for molds in which to pour herself. She waited, cooling, for every part of...
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March 11, 2014 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
my mom holds her accent like a shotgun, with two good hands. her tongue, all brass knuckle slipping in between her lips her hips, all laughter and wind clap. she speaks a sanchocho of...
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March 7, 2014 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
If there’s a synonym for magic it lies not in the wand but at the bud-bent end. The body’s a spring, the mind a whore. Easter dawn, and loss. Better to have been born poor...
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February 5, 2014 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
verse more than perm or not more than hood or not more than Chicago or Brooklyn or Omaha or Biloxi or not more than somebody’s woman...