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Tag Archives: M. J. Iuppa
I want to pass time in bed with its mess of quilts and pillows & luxury of breakfast—toast, I presume—and brewed coffee, and an egg, soft- boiled, poised in its porcelain cup; and the daily news with its debate and … Continue reading
By virtue that’s inherent—a pursuit of happiness—he tells me, the garden is set to grow in thirteen raised beds. We wait, wanting the best of everything, but in our own bed, we doubt what we have done. All night, silence … Continue reading
Rising in morning’s half-shadows, in the purr of rain caught in the back of the gutter’s throat, I gather ripe tomatoes sitting in flats on the porch and bring them in to be processed in the steamy kitchen where pots … Continue reading
Sitting here, on this paint-peeling bench, with two squirmy kids eating sloppy cones, and three tethered dogs standing guard, waiting for my signal. I’m wearing a wide-brimmed straw hat, so I can be distracted without anyone knowing how I count … Continue reading
First days of summer, small plates to share; shimmering white wine glasses full of tonal ambiguity—it’s poetry. They know their limits, and get very close to admitting that this beet salad with its bright orange slices, goat cheese, and nasturtiums … Continue reading
Past dinghy storefronts, past doorways with broken thresholds, a girl wearing rain boots stomps through puddles; her green backpack stuffed with sticks the width of thumbs—her left fist wrapped around a bunch of just picked daffodils. She’s going somewhere—her cheeks … Continue reading