Category: Poetry

A Memento of Nintendo

When one thinks of a ‘game,’ hears its notes playing and effects sounding,  Like a pot smashing or a brick bashing, When one smells a game,  The cellophane of a case, or the rubber of an analog stick, When one … Read More

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Freshman year she called, crying

Freshman year she called, crying We’ll never know what it was or  how it came to be. She never showed  the signs on her stomach and the  signs she wore long on her face  were those of the boy hands … Read More

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A Horse Walks Into a Bar

A horse walks into a bar. The Bartender says, “Why the long face?”   “Well,” the horse says, “it’s my life.” “What about your life,” the bartender says, “What’s the story?” “That’s just it,” says the horse,  “I don’t have … Read More

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listen for green anemoia

twenty minutes from the center of the city once rice fields that my grandmother admired each morning whispering to dragonflies in the cup of her palm  squint at night and see cold stars tearing away the horizon motorcycles and black … Read More

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Bienvenidos (go home)

The pilot gave all of the instructions twice,  once in English and once in Spanish. I had never heard “amarre el cinturón de seguridad” from that crackling airplane speaker.   It was so much like just flying to a different … Read More

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Anabasis

Today, the forecast in Avernus: heavy fog; flash flood warnings; rising tides from the River Cocytus and Acheron. “New at 11, we’ll see that despite our individual attempts at self-control, lamenting and sorrow will continue spilling into the future,” the … Read More

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Lullaby Loon

If you find yourself forgetting how to breathe, do not be afraid. Leave the stones in your throat and learn to rise with the croaking loons, drifting as they do and as they have since the  beginning of time. Or … Read More

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Morning Prayer

Morning Prayer Little red psalm books that we gathered from a rack like basketballs: sometimes I would get three or four, for my friends, a utopian gesture of plenty that was received passively, the cheap worn covers sliding across the … Read More

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Occupation of a Life

He put his hands in the pocket of his brown leather jacket, looking for a piece of paper. All he found was a small receipt he had got from the stationary store in exchange for a red pen, and he … Read More

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Lemonade // Drain

“Neither you nor your soul is waiting for me at   the end of this,” — Nick Flynn, “Cathedral of Salt”   All I ever wanted was a kitchen and you standing in the tile-white light. Me, on the floor, … Read More

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Lac de Sainte-Croix

Spontaneity escapes me, I swim in fear of unlikely tsunamis, or phantasmic beasts.   I swim with a raincoat on, protecting my words from the world.   My ears tinged with the muffled sounds of laughter.   My body quaking … Read More

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SEPARATION RITUALS

We are in the magic-room, as she is calling it. I write that down.   She is cute and funny, even now. But of course she is.   She calls it a sanctuary.  I write that down too.   My … Read More

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