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Tag Archives: Andrew Shields
A lipogram on stanzas by a bard who had a job in Hartford I Among six plus four and six plus four snowy mountains, only a thing was moving: a black bird’s optic organ. II I was of a mind … Continue reading
Once more Sunday, shops closed. One sunny day, and the tables are drinking outside the cafés. Ice creams browse past the windows. The balloons, holding their children’s hands, have been here before, but for the children, everything is new, save … Continue reading
A siren in the morning. I flip French toast and walk to the window, too late to rubberneck. No sun behind the steady rain. A siren at noon. I chop an onion to “Me and Bobby McGee” and catch the … Continue reading
for Andrew DeBoo “My goat is gone,” said God. “Well, that’s too bad,” said Abel. “Can you find it, please?” God asked. Said Abel, “I don’t want to be a cad, but you know that I can’t leave my task … Continue reading
The river turns; the wood piles up, a bonfire waiting to start. So many trunks and twigs and branches, and not a single match. The water will not carry them to any mountaintop. They will not be a burning signal … Continue reading
When it was the choir boy’s turn to sing, he had something to say first, in a language that he’d learned, and everybody heard. He’d forgotten what he was called. Was his name Gordon? Was his name Walt? Sweating by … Continue reading
The fenceposts drink the water from both sides. One is flowering. The sunbirds sip at pistils and stamens; ravens wait for the almonds. It burns in the sudden flames of suicides. Andrew Shields lives in Basel, Switzerland. His book Thomas … Continue reading
The tinkling bell of the neighbor’s clock strikes behind the wall: eleven. Only at night can it be heard. Even the ticking of our own clocks fades by day in the noise of children and adults, calling from room to … Continue reading
My tricycle carried me into the street; the Cadillac stopped inches away. Years passed, and our station wagon headed home from the dump, the back seat down, with me squatting behind the driver’s seat. A speeding Pinto overlooked a light … Continue reading