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poetry: results 385–408 of 735
26 September 2006
Vol. 6, No. 3
prose poem
You were drinking water from the tap. As you spit into the basin, a woman came out of the stall. She pushed your head down, held it under the tap…
25 September 2006
Vol. 6, No. 3
elegy, classic, translation, rhyme
All this was long ago, but I do not forget
Our small white house, between the city and the farms;
21 September 2006
Vol. 6, No. 3
she is good as dog is good,
winter making its small fist &
rattle. made complicit
with the cracked lamp…
18 September 2006
Vol. 6, No. 3
prose poem
i guess i'm poor at the whittling, longish fingers make oak into sparrow, i tend to rub elm smooth & pretend forests & birdsongs when i should dig the knife in…
15 September 2006
Vol. 6, No. 3
And I remember all these details, but only one by one,
as you recount them to me;
and I recognize the scenes, but only one by one,
as they appear before me.
14 September 2006
Vol. 6, No. 3
classic, translation, rhyme
Rest on my heart, deaf, cruel soul, adored
Tigress, and monster with the lazy air.
I long, in the black jungles of your hair,
To force each finger thrilling like a sword…
13 September 2006
Vol. 6, No. 3
classic, translation, rhyme
Among the vermin, jackals, panthers, lice,
gorillas and tarantulas that suck
and snatch and scratch and defecate and fuck
in the disorderly circus of our vice,
there's one more ugly and abortive birth.
9 September 2006
Vol. 6, No. 3
prose poem
She begins with tiny spoons and screws. Swallows safety pins and penny nails by the dozen. Paperclips, thumbtacks, saltshaker tops. The doctors say it's dire, prescribe lithium and fresh air. Her mother cries and brings cake.
6 September 2006
Vol. 6, No. 3
Lets say a woman's heart
is like a windup bird.
The conservatory filled
with oranges and the cellar
disordered, unstable…
30 August 2006
Vol. 6, No. 2
It's in the hand—a wandering—
my eyes, the pockets
of your pants.
27 August 2006
Vol. 6, No. 2
The imaginary café where I met him
burned down, taking our last glances.
Is he our grandfather,
writing lesbian love poems?
24 August 2006
Vol. 6, No. 2
Of doors and red-eyed windows,
the senses before sight.
I became specific
in my body.
17 August 2006
Vol. 6, No. 2
I would not mind it if your heart were a television
And within it a time capsule
And inside that some secret I never knew
11 August 2006
Vol. 6, No. 2
light verse
…a third-grader with cornrows in her hair
and skin the color of walnut, asks me:
"Is it true that men always want
to know what women are thinking?"
8 August 2006
Vol. 6, No. 2
Were we down so better than
to take the dress off
and waste my chance again?
5 August 2006
Vol. 6, No. 2
Your mother asked if I was certain, and I had to excuse myself
to call you from the bathroom.
Is that why you're here? I'm not
talking about my health anymore…
2 August 2006
Vol. 6, No. 2
elegy
Suddenly she's bawling, tells the entire story, like you do
when your world is unfamiliar, the hazy bodies lost in black.
It takes six years for the pieces to make themselves apparent…
30 July 2006
Vol. 6, No. 2
elegy, editors' select
Bellefontaine: a town on the way to somewhere else, a place
where you run out of gas, stop to make love on a picnic table
somewhere by the wheat field—when, toward magic hour, the boy
already loaded the gun, the smell of bacon wafting outside…
24 July 2006
Vol. 6, No. 2
You're boiling baby spinach before
that dreaded date, your hands
quake like the leaves on the stewing
water, backbones wilting in heat.
21 July 2006
Vol. 6, No. 2
Mother's breasts flutter to the table,
"They won't hold up," she says.
The rest of her cards fly
on bowed wings.
20 July 2006
Vol. 6, No. 2
classic
No, no, go not to Lethe, neither twist
Wolfs-bane, tight-rooted, for its poisonous wine;
Nor suffer thy pale forehead to be kiss'd
By nightshade, ruby grape of Proserpine…
19 July 2006
Vol. 6, No. 2
classic
O Goddess! hear these tuneless numbers, wrung
By sweet enforcement and remembrance dear,
And pardon that thy secrets should be sung
Even into thine own soft-conched ear…
16 July 2006
Vol. 6, No. 2
This is her spot:
a child in an apple tree, eyes falling
into the way things want to be
seen:…
11 July 2006
Vol. 6, No. 2
I swear, friendship hangs on the hardest wind.
The moon is the friend of the earth
and the earth of the sun.