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January 2, 2015 |
in Poetry |
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Throngs crowd around Warhol’s Campbell Soup canvas. Images of Elvis, Marilyn, a young Brando, and Jackie Kennedy smiling in her pill box hat moments before the assassination. We see her...
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September 7, 2014 |
in Poetry |
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On the first day, when he told me never to touch that tree, I could not remember which of the myriad things around us he had named trees but did understand that I was expected to please and...
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September 7, 2014 |
in Poetry |
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(for Lori Field) for this creature like me Searching with my brown puzzled neck Closed my slender Asian eyes Brought me to darken light Taken away from this to be continued...
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July 5, 2014 |
in Poetry |
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All the waving arms belonged to women distraught with low-income dreams and men with ashy knees bent before the only God known to worry himself with the prayers of a little blueberry-curled...
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July 1, 2014 |
in Poetry |
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You can, you realize, not say what you think, and sometimes, not say what you have thought all along in that operative fashion into which words have been put. Though, such language seems...
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June 30, 2014 |
in Poetry |
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When she smiles I try to catch her teeth with my eyes closed. What animates my skin so flushed? What crumbles my bones into weakness? Where does desire find home if that same desire is a...
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June 30, 2014 |
in Poetry |
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Shower in the dark, a fleeting flash of phosphorescence–a jellyfish glowing in the depths of the sea. Reach for it. The smoke of light shrinks away. Ghost of a face, ghost of a man...
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June 29, 2014 |
in Poetry |
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i.m. India’s missing girls This is not really myth or secret. This murmur in the mouth of the mountain where the sound of rain is born. This surging past pilgrim town and village...
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June 29, 2014 |
in Poetry |
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blurs at the start of life (How adorable! Boy or girl?) and end (shaving my mother’s whiskers …). Only the horny middle makes us choose...
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June 28, 2014 |
in Poetry |
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/> DENICE FROHMAN is an award-winning poet, lyricist, and educator, whose work explores the intersections of race, gender, sexuality, and the “in-betweeness” that exists...
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June 23, 2014 |
in Poetry |
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“Feminism is a socialist, anti-family, political movement that encourages women to leave their husbands, kill their children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism and...
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May 30, 2014 |
in Poetry |
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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 |
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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 |
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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 |
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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....