Tag Archives: Daniel Fitzpatrick

Box Turtle

It wore the look of a small watermelon fallen from October’s lime and lemon leaves leaning in over the street. Further into falling light juice brightened to blood and rind to shining shell like broken Byzantium. The eye feels the … Continue reading

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Visible Reality

On visiting the Groeninge Museum They meant to represent, the Flemish masters, a visible reality. They saw fox-faced men meant to tempt Job, sawing dirges on the bulls’ skulls as ornithine crustaceans crept afoot, their fat heads stuffed with gaping … Continue reading

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St. John’s Hospital

Bruges and An-aesthetics Alarm forbids the tempted touch, the thought I could contract their silence or vintage smear the sterile frame. A veil settles in the wake of pain, a comfort unrelieved by shade. The sickness unto death begins in … Continue reading

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Carriage

Dropped, bobbed, and quickly cooled, as blood, bile, words that burned in the blood, floating through tissue and the red refuse, limp shrimp sliced from the sow trout’s belly. It lay still secondarily and flicked as she just nineteen churned … Continue reading

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October Exercise

I ran— soles slipped on pebbles stripped by rain in puddles’ planes, purged of brine, plied with oil, glassing back black pines sprawling through tumid air, chilled and swollen, still as an anthill; limp, dead death hangs unhanged by throatless … Continue reading

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For Lee

On second thought I start to write since you were less a picture than most I’ve known. Or maybe it’s that you were more, more spirit, the neat yeast kneading liver, spilling, stealing your left, ex-officer’s leg. It may be … Continue reading

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