Tag Archives: John L. Stanizzi

bones slowed rehearsal of stasis trounced by rain dissonant through warm leaves broken by the burning shiver bedclothes heavy and wet a street of dreams the sunlight ridiculed by an abundance of heat sleep in which the touch of real … Continue reading →

6 a.m. The first sound I hear above the encroaching despair is the gulls screeching into the dawn, then the barely audible liquid roll and swirl of the bay against the rocks. An egret, back for the second day in … Continue reading →

            for my father You never said a word about where you went that time you disappeared for 5 straight days. At my bedroom window I would invent your car pulling in and what you would say about where you had … Continue reading →

            …in just a few days the rumor spread             of the rooms emptied of words             and filled with screams. Swollen eyes.                         —Emilio Zucchi, translated by Beppe Cavatorta and Brenna Ward I’m sitting outside on a cool mid-November evening the day after … Continue reading →