2 December 2003
Vol. 3, No. 4
Several hundred miles of tulips. The fetlock sunk in mud. Doing what we don't need to know about to the steel spines of the violets. To the dog's nipples hanging just off the dirt. To the jade chimes.
2 December 2003
Vol. 3, No. 4
A deck of cards on the corner. A sun led steadily away; no better for it. Sitting around in paper gowns. In deep study.
2 December 2003
Vol. 3, No. 4
The secret lies in elevation; in the erection of it, its meaning, what it relates to. The concept of the finite gave way to loss. Dream gave way to prophecy.
2 December 2003
Vol. 3, No. 4
Nothing is something. The sky diminishing during earth's first tilt toward fall.
2 December 2003
Vol. 3, No. 4
Did you know the ocean has a skin this morning, a real skin of light, like a newborn? October turning tropical.
2 December 2003
Vol. 3, No. 4
oh I cannot mention what I saw but I will tell you that it involved a celebrity.
2 December 2003
Vol. 3, No. 4
there comes a time in which, no matter how important poetry may be, it seems more important to go out and buy throw pillows.
2 December 2003
Vol. 3, No. 4
Not hay. Too singular. Not chaff, not grain. Something Pre-Socratic about its attraction to living heat, stable dung. Not lace. Not grass-whistle…
2 December 2003
Vol. 3, No. 4
Dreams that no matter what button you push, the floors keep flicking past, 33, 34, 35, that you're walking on a long bridge, no land in sight…
2 September 2003
Vol. 3, No. 3
light verse
Man walks into a bar with his dog and says to the bartender, "You wanna buy this dog? He recites poetry."
2 June 2003
Vol. 3, No. 2
While being converted into a human dwelling, this greenhouse hid its soul from the carpenters. Windows are everywhere. The building's heavy lids…
2 December 2002
Vol. 2, No. 4
Working on a foundation reminiscent of a screened-in porch I helped my family build when I was a kid, only much larger. Carting wheelbarrows of sand for the cement mixer & concrete blocks. Old friends showed up…
2 December 2002
Vol. 2, No. 4
More interested in finding than knowing. The symposia throng, led by panels, almost political, mostly American, addressing the question, 'What is American about American poetry?'
2 December 2002
Vol. 2, No. 4
Last day of winter won't disappoint. Rain one degree from the gentleness of snow rides the added chill of March wind bruising skin blue, or red, dreary, dismal. Olson called it dour.
2 September 2002
Vol. 2, No. 3
After days of silent glow, nearing the kneaded air and pacing out the things that I wanted to say, I saw you—we met—like two birds along the paths by the water, between which was haze and wood.
2 September 2002
Vol. 2, No. 3
In the twilight of things, pressed up against the acres of glass, with our bodies beneath: we walked to the place where the deer had woven themselves into the trees. The grass mounded white, the light receding.
2 March 2002
Vol. 2, No. 1
We had our first sex on a 70s era couch (while MTV's 'The Real World' played); it made my allergies go off—that's the reason I laid my head on your chest, because the cushion was giving me a rash.
2 March 2002
Vol. 2, No. 1
We are taught to take care of each other, that families are harsh places where people will tell you that you're fat or old looking, but also where those same folks will stand by you.
2 March 2002
Vol. 2, No. 1
editors' select
This hammock is strung for one, and it's so humid outside that we stink. If I concentrate, maybe I can weigh us down, till the netting is barely grazing the acorns below us. When we touch the ground I will orgasm. I'm preparing for it now, facing down while you sleep turned towards the sky, my breath moving your collar.
2 December 2001
Vol. 1
sheen wind shave my ear so I can hear nothing but your electric tyranny.