Category Archives: Poetry

Good Man

His face half-formed in light, he trembles to greet me, his hands ashake, his mouth, his head. In this dream, its dimness, never complete though more real than others, he is dead, forever gone. I remember then that I forgot … Continue reading

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Dissolving into Screens

Surely my brother recalls the old porch, our family dissolving into screens. Now, his dining room table—gone. His children, too, so young they dance at the fact of two houses: new beds, new bedrooms—old table. The front light stays on. … Continue reading

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The Theater Director

for Mei Ann Teo (Pershing Square, Grand Central Terminal, June 19, 2019) Seven years near Boston, from nine to fifteen, while daddy pondered math education and wrote his thesis, she was bitch-slapped right back to Singapore by RGS. She slipped … Continue reading

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Finger Trap

It almost feels normal             or at least you could trick yourself into thinking so –                         each morning loosening The valves             On the espresso machine, the steam on the sidewalk The long walk to the train station             An endless monotony of … Continue reading

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climb

sitting under a japanese maple we look at the blue             temporary sky and i want to name it for you. all winter we’ve battled what gutters and unravels       the dependable afternoon       of meaning to be other people than we are … Continue reading

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When the Song Ends

When the black cat purrs in her lap and the white wicker rocker creaks on the cement porch, she looks indifferently at the unopened envelope delivered this morning bearing a Wyoming cancellation postmarked between the western prairies of Nebraska and … Continue reading

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West of Topeka

Ominous black clouds gather, splash a licorice tint against the afternoon sky, hours after a landscape artist daubed earthtones from her wooden palette. Locals instinctively know the fast moving storm could spawn funnel clouds, its moisture flooding parched fields while … Continue reading

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Near Wichita

When the last magenta strands fade into dull charcoal, patches of goldenrod etch the fenced fields in ochre. The magpie awaits chilly nights, mourns the departure of crickets and fireflies. The notes of this quiet song rustle corn stalks, permeate … Continue reading

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Iowa, Off I-80

At the hour before dusk a strawberry skyscape envelops the house resting under a stand of cottonwoods, the two silos squirreling this year’s harvest, a field of stoic sunflowers lifting moon-shaped faces. the freshly plowed fields— their deep furrows mirroring … Continue reading

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75%

Fizzling out at night whatever climax was nigh slips away hidden in dark folds slippery eel             * Life insurance willing to pay out 75% for living people with GBM With the money they go to Disney Mecca for three fourths … Continue reading

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OCD

Guardrail folded around an invisible             body the case             of a missing person melancholia’s inability to mourn             * Lili returns to IKEA for the umpteenth time small imperfections in white paint             * Prozac proven to improve perfectionism How as a girl … Continue reading

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Sno-Storm

3:36 a.m. Lili shakes my leg             ice rain crinkles like cellophane             against the window             or the window could be the crinkling             of a sheet of cellophane Lying awake I re-bone high school chemistry on YouTube             rehash old debate cases             failed … Continue reading

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Remembers

Summer now embers, November slumbers. Darker hours have given way to darker days and darker months met with vivid apparitions of leering pumpkins, bursting stars, burning men and pretty skulls. Beneath a quilt of downy clouds the hills count their … Continue reading

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Summer’s Song

Summer is a bass note. It buzzes down on us, not like bees, but as a humming amplifier, an electric pylon, a hot helicopter whose hot pilot’s headphones are tuned in to a clear channel of crickets chirping all day … Continue reading

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Modesphere

Unbuild this house in my sleep, call it your own dream. In a minute, it will be tomorrow. Any old hypotenuse from there to here will do. Fracture makes pure fact in due time. Sheila E. Murphy is an American … Continue reading

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Grappelli

Staccato takes you all the way to bed I heard the tone above the tone amounting to bow on string ‘s rich ping apres. So closure wears the dust weaned from a numbing harvest chapter, verse, disbursed. Unless you can pronounce sadness … Continue reading

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Shadow Work

What is a God to the doubt of themself? A pile of ash praying at my feet I used to believe myself monolith Until the crumble cracked its teeth And pressed me flush with the dirt I have been uncertain … Continue reading

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Supposedly Serious Shit

There was a fire in the garage where my brother tried to kill himself. A roommate on leafy greens left a cigarette burning. It burnt the bikes but my mom refurbished one. It’s on the balcony. When I called, sobbing … Continue reading

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Kitten in a Sack

It’s the lease. And loneliness. Sometimes when BoneEyes has got me in a tizzy and vodka’s got 6’9”, he likes to taunt me about my friends. He says that they like him more than me, that they hate my crazy, … Continue reading

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I Have a Big Penis

Or maybe I am a big dick. Flaccid in the world until there’s passion, then I grow hard and turn away. There haven’t been too many complaints. And they’re not on the negative side. Girth. Space. I used to have … Continue reading

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Tow Truckers Are People Too

Sometimes, the day after, I wake up to bruises. But the ground swears it wasn’t involved. And I believe him. Have you ever been hit? The ground slaps hard. So do flights of stairs that leave you on a creaking … Continue reading

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The Baboons Burned in Their Cage

My family went to Texas. San Antonio. My brother and I were born there. At night, the X and I would sneak out to the River Walk. We’d have beers in the mugginess. A bar with a bulldog as their … Continue reading

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Penance

How serious you are, hanging herbs to dry. Before dawn, as if thyme could shrink this grief or pull another deer from your heart – back from this war, before the next – I’m sorry for last night. The way … Continue reading

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Walking in the Dawn, Hamburg

The sun a large orange marble rises behind the Köhlbrandbrücke and the minarets of factories dedicate their smoke to the light, all silhouetted against the silver horizon like shadows cast against a wall, and a young couple walk arm in … Continue reading

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The Man of Many Faces

has been left by her, lost himself, but he talks with cocky certainty; he claims that his personality has evacuated him. Perhaps he is just going through the motions of having one. He’d had passport troubles, he said, partly because … Continue reading

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