Poetry
The Museum of Sound
On the ground floor, near the gift shop, is the mechanical wing, with sections for vehicles, factories, heavy equipment, and office machinery. A rare recording of FDR’s typist is the …
Read MoreThe Piñata
They came to see the piñata. The piñata hung from a crane and swayed with a swollen gut of newspaper and paste. They listened as the piñata creaked like a …
Read MoreI As In Justice
Just this: Consider that you are here and there Is a bar or six at the window and you are dying To escape. And on the television The operatic Which …
Read MoreLouis Slotin You Will Not Turn Forty (after Ted Hughes)
At your fortieth birthday, on a moonlit beach, One of your guests is late. You save a plate. A place is clean and set Amid the after–dinner mess. Why are …
Read MoreCrossing the Dezadeash, Haines Junction
It comes to you often in the moments that you have alone: perhaps you’ve died. Climbing the stairs between offices, you’ve noticed it, a slowing of perception, a slightly altered …
Read MoreOnychomychosis
Under the toenail, lights. He wants it gone of course, fungal mess; the bed has grown its gloom over the months. I’ll prescribe the usual; pills, painless. Just scribble it …
Read MoreA Warbler At My Window
April again, bright morning and he’s back, flinging senseless against the pane his scruffy plumage, his shit and mucous and god knows what other bird-body fluids. . . He’s at …
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