What you need: a sheet, a pen, a
hand, I
use my right to write.
If your dreams are ending
badly, put them into words,
like this:
What you need: a sheet, a pen, a
hand, I
use my right to write.
If your dreams are ending
badly, put them into words,
like this:
CORD First the forces: gases, heat and radiation; stars. We are stardust sing the physicist and bard. We are quartz and bats and roses, we are poetry: Rimbaud, Blake. Baudelaire, Bidart. We’re fugue of Bach and Glass; Celan. World gets into us every breath. Yes to every sentence. I held to the imbecile cord—till it […]
MAMILLA POOL Brambles hamper access to the ancient reservoir. The pool—agape and empty, dried to stone. The impulse was to save. The one hard lot was in the ground. We wanted fresh pool-water, in the months of hottest heat we wanted mainly to be slaked; pay attention; pray. If praise could fill the pool […]
SOTTO VOCE When we’re in the den, they’re in the boidem. We hear the strains of opera, intermittently, from above; slippers shuffling near the ceiling, swish of a housecoat hem through a doorway: burgundy velour. I keep the fancy soaps in the upstairs bathroom, just in case. Your mother—I called her Ēma too— never […]