-
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...
-
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...
-
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...
-
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...
-
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...
-
January 27, 2014 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
A false lake. Sheen of a wanton flotilla peached in blue. The rented Nissan. Loam off green mountain. Explosions in the distance. Trails fractured and rethreaded....
-
January 23, 2014 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
For you took the night away over the garden wall & left no shelter for the aster or the deer that hid there, feeding. You emptied the buckets where rain would last for days. Where the...
-
January 5, 2014 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
It was a Saturday afternoon in June and the sun shone down on our naked skin as we passionately embraced and met soft lips and gazed into each other’s eyes as we began to make...
-
January 5, 2014 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
Flint and locket, Pockets turned out to rid of dust. From your perspective the flow Of time is quite imperceptible. From hers it is made of springs, And gears, and string. Her thoughts...
-
January 4, 2014 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
Xue Di reads his poem “Witch” in Chinese, followed by Forrest Gander who reads it in English. (From the Brown University Audio Collection, used with permission by Di.)...
-
January 4, 2014 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
One after another, westward we drive “love”—this fashionable car. Its bumper cuts through cheers and catcalls Love cuts open our bodies. We live in a strange country Love...
-
January 3, 2014 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
Who came to stop the two men for they must have stopped nights ago on an uptown sidewalk knot of flesh center of a gawking crowd One flung his body on the other ...
-
December 3, 2013 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
Behind the war on women Who does not control her own body? A slave. Aging white men addicted to power cannot stand girls and women choosing for themselves. They dream of bringing back...
-
December 3, 2013 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
…and find inside a picture, of myself as a child, sitting on a small chair, wearing overalls and shoes that must have been hand-me-downs because they are so worn the sole is coming loose....
-
December 1, 2013 |
in Poetry |
admininfin8 |
0
When it’s yourself who’s looking and looked at— a myopic knowing in the morning, sleep-struck and shocked— this is my face! Unshareable, one-of-a-kind blandness....