2 December 2003
fiction, flash fiction
My friend says, "If you look for love you'll never find it." Then she tells me how she and her boyfriend take a shower together every morning.
2 December 2003
poetry, editors' select
Let us first think about our spines.
Twitching in the harmless outfit. See blades
& sockets, then dinosaurs. Then see the scar
of string through our center.
2 December 2003
poetry
See the hand: root-like and hooked.
Notched knuckles, scars traveling
veneer of brown skin. See how it crowds
the skull, pushing inward, depraved…
2 December 2003
poetry
Today, it's the rise
and billow of sheets
on the clothesline, the necessary
rectangles snapped, bleached…
2 December 2003
poetry, prose poem
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 December 2003
poetry, prose poem
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
poetry, prose poem
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
poetry, prose poem
oh I cannot mention what I saw but I will tell you that it involved a celebrity.
2 December 2003
poetry, prose poem
Did you know the ocean has a skin this morning, a real skin of light, like a newborn? October turning tropical.
2 December 2003
poetry, prose poem
Nothing is something. The sky diminishing during earth's first tilt toward fall.
2 December 2003
poetry, prose poem
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
poetry
Autotomy in spiders is a voluntary act.
With such surprises, anticipation should have them
humming like the truck of wear-dated carpet
that idled all night in the Hardee's parking lot.
2 December 2003
poetry
Across vast distances in space, one cat calls to another;
a bat swings round a lamppost like a satellite.
2 December 2003
poetry
Welcome to the little room.
You can bring a world in here,
spill an ocean or two…
2 December 2003
poetry, prose poem
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
poetry, prose poem
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
poetry, prose poem
I found the lost ice fisher with his glassed-in face. A human light, a field of frozen water. Wrapped in fur, thinking of his horse. Thinking of something else entirely: Wild cows in a silver wood.
2 December 2003
poetry
Light pours into the space between
here and the next thing I can see.
Life on second floors means to know…
