poetry

  after “View of Saintes-Maries-de-la-Mer” by Vincent Van Gogh, 1888   White wash, black thatch, tiles of tangerine, marigold, ginger—saffron cathedral, and this patch before us—greens, blues, purples, a woman in black, white bonnet bobbing. A weak and greenish sky. … Read More

  gone through the back door late to let out the dogs I would not have found the ten-point buck pilfering the bird feeder, stunned as I with his hungry heart, the things we do when we think no one … Read More

  My nature poem has air conditioning, but no line breaks. My nature poem doesn’t care what your nature poem thinks; that is its nature. Though it has never met a season it didn’t like, my nature poem prefers seasons … Read More

  in honor of Stewart   “Art, useless as tits on a boar.” —Diane Seuss   A poet once said that a poem is a synapse, the space between neurons; those two inches spanning the gap between God’s finger and … Read More

  begins with the sight of someone else’s eyes, voice pulled taut   by a ribbon of smoke, apples of cheeks reddened like seawater   in the evening light. A volcanic eruption, one body   surging toward another, determined to … Read More

  “Our meat was cold.” “He simply smelt it and walked away.” “Like stepping into a house of horrors.” “The smoke flavor haunted me 4 days after my visit.” “Mother ordered the chicken who is 90 years old, and said … Read More

  This is not a pipe, said surrealist painter Magritte about his painting. It looks like a pipe, convinces you, makes you believe that it is a pipe, but you can’t push your hand through the canvas, grab it, take … Read More

  Her name is Anabel. A Turkification of the foreign name “Annabel.” Not ten minutes ago, Anabel pulled me out of the way as the bumper of a bus grazed my back, hurting and shaking my fragile bones, giving me … Read More

  She came to me three times last night. Padded across the carpet +++and hardwood and in a voice so clear she sounded like fresh river water said, +++Mama, I’m lonely Then, Mama, what animal would you be if you … Read More

  The property line widened like a spreading stain. Drank ink and swelled into map. The line held the land like an unborn child. Then: pavement crawled forward. Crawled away. It spread along the land everywhere it went. It crawled … Read More

  Deep in the caverns of the memory unit, my grandfather’s trying to describe what time feels like. It’s a square on a piece of paper, he says, it’s shaped like a brick & I’m stuck in it. A few … Read More

  As you can see I’m dying, the professor said to open our first class. +++++His face, worn to gray skin and bone, left no doubt. Ridged brows shadowed his +++++dark eyes. For fourteen weeks, you will learn about group … Read More