Category Archives: Poetry

Recycling the waste of the sacred

Like the breath that fattens in the glass of rum I just want to grow beyond me to catch the scent of an inner slaughter. As a child, I touched an impalpable skeleton in the school lockers. I took my … Continue reading

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The Anthropologist’s Daughter

My mother is a chaser of ghosts— she stores souls in between her knuckles, to press their cooling breaths to my forehead when a migraine strikes She lives in a typewriter box with Durkheim and Freud and Bourdieu, and all … Continue reading

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Ritual for self-possession

I unfold the beauty from my limbs, fold it, careful, in thirds, place it on the foot of my narrow bed before the evening—wraps—its arms around me I unbind the vitality, lightness, of my Body, hang it up,                        careful,             this youth … Continue reading

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The Optimist

There is no oven in this room– a good omen, he says, ignoring one fact for another. The open sky of his eyes reassures, surveys emptiness and files under opportunity. This is not a kitchen. Under knife-spread shadows I uncover … Continue reading

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Strings

I tried to write my memoirs but they all turned into poems. It’s like flying a kite at the beach next to a couple of marauding seagulls, hovering in the wind. Maybe the two aren’t so different. One curls around … Continue reading

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No Sign

The rest of us woke up without you. It wasn’t so bad until a bird slammed into my window, falling backwards onto the porch. Her wings flayed outwards. Her head limp. There was no sign, no gentle pumping beneath her … Continue reading

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The Pivot

a red barn against a green field, doors open, light streaming in, revealing bales of hay stacked on top of each other, five rows deep. a silver silo beside the barn. a flock of Canadian geese in V formation overhead. … Continue reading

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kaddish

here, put out your hands. you want to get clean. every room in the hospital – every doorway – leaves itself             * open here, there is still skin and blood and sinew underneath. the heart monitor still beeps its dirty … Continue reading

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Looking Away

As a child in the car at night, I would alternate             between counting the endless reflector kernels (yellow corn down the middle, white corn along the edge)             or staring into the sun-pits of oncoming headlights that grew from specks to … Continue reading

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Love Poem

I’m single, which means I’m available at 11pm to tell the man three time zones away it’s okay that he thinks of other men, okay that he sometimes fights and loses the ache to prop the closet door on his … Continue reading

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beatnik fairyland

the road hits the cliff and the cliffs hit the water and the water just fades on the sky big sur has no service and your car rolls back out of the parking lot off the cliffs and into the … Continue reading

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The Interview

Their bulky fluorescent vests riding up and hovering as they sat down, keeping perfect form. Their well-worn neutral expressions. The way a human mouth curdles with a wh- How the pavement had glistened a dark sweat on the way home. … Continue reading

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Fruit

Flesh wraps itself around a stone, soft enough to bruise, and round like a moon or palm or the sun, from braids to rays down the back which men’s eyes grow to take in and tangle and they are round … Continue reading

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Snow on the Grass of April

The first days of unpredictable April turns its sack of tricks upside down, empties its contents of cold winds and a smattering of snow flakes, small enough to have fallen from a giant salt shaker, upon the village of Dedham. … Continue reading

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Snake River

Two dogs colored like copper circuit wire             circle us. We kneel and cajole, hoping to feel their pink noses press into our palms. Instead, they watch us like we are the strangers who don’t belong.             The boys have built a … Continue reading

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A Corrosion of Stillness

One dinted barrel—rust banding out from its rivets like the years on a fir—stays alone above the wheatgrass of a prairie starved to brown and barren daylight as a ditched monument to timelessness and serenity detested. The drum throws echoes … Continue reading

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no angels

as for the angels, they were nowhere near the pool that day, hijacked as they must have been by some other hedonist who didn’t know my child, just turned two, or how his still-chubby arms would have jackhammered as he … Continue reading

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Some Kind of Blue

Stevie Nicks won’t stop barking as the swallows swarm my window frantic for a nest I don’t have today the lake is a hollow jug bone dry and down on its fortune out of step with the times some kind … Continue reading

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what am i

I tell the therapist I’m broken not busted but he just smirks like a toppled tombstone or the death valley sun I unpack my duffel toss my dirty underwear on the floor but he just smirks like a taxidermied lament … Continue reading

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Nothing is Everything

for Bailey and Chase When my son tells me his best friend has overdosed and that my son was the one who found him, blue and wood-stiff on the bedroom floor, there’s too much rain, rain hammering on the sill, … Continue reading

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i am not ready to have to wait again

on the day we pretend is our anniversary, my belly is baby-ready but your nerves are not. still, you play the good husband. me, the good wife and we map out each other in portions, drawing lines of scrimmage with … Continue reading

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True North

The lone crow on the lone pole where the weathervane used to whirl insinuates my need for misdirection. He is an arrow of skittish attention, of scant intention: the cock and hop, the flick and caw toward anything on the … Continue reading

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Same Old Same Old

Three teen deer have begun of late to make daily dusk-time stops out back, their flat flanks and thick, angled necks depicting stumps and trunks that then move and materialize and re-blend as their busy muzzles forage-and- freeze them across … Continue reading

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Catalog of a Recovery

It’s come down to hints: clandestine signs in the woods, vacuumed leaves hustling to cover his rearview trail, the pronated footprints of pipers along the beach, driftwood twisted like something he might know. His heart aches less. An Italian tablecloth … Continue reading

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They amputated your thighs from my hips

my lips from the crevices of your arm bones your tongue from inside my left eye socket they amputated memory I dreamt we were thirteen hiding in your mother’s pantry, eating warm molasses cookies I wiped the milk mustache off … Continue reading

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