Tag Archives: Roger Atwood

Longueur

Evening will be seated on a train mumbling home to fallen hamlets, opalescent ponds, turned locks. Tell me we’ll be together 26 years hence, love, 26 years I last drew this dismal air and my train since runs on the … Continue reading

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On Seeing Caravaggio’s Christ at the Column

After the curfew two soldiers beat a man in the plaza. In the clapped cold of the mountain I could see their faces as they did their business. I could not see the man being beaten, I heard his animal … Continue reading

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Lange Nacht

to Antonio García Tonight the museums on their floors of ice will be open all night, the burghers of Vienna move like moths in their splendid coats, draft from the moonlit garden shakes the crystal petals. Wagner, painted genius on … Continue reading

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One Hundred Years Since the End of World War One

            and still there are dolls on the upper stories, geese hissing and flapping in the garden, the maid showing up without word at seven, grandfather’s Croix de Guerre unsold in a fleamarket in Amiens, on a shelf a novel with … Continue reading

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Wonderful Life

Manic-depressive Jimmy Stewart, like a drunk girl who fell off the giddy couch my father must have seen you, learned from you the value of a melodramatic suicide. In New England if they saw you running through cornflakes snow like … Continue reading

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Horse

What would you call a seahorse if you had never seen a horse? On the coast of Peru they had no concept of horses but they had seahorses and they had to call them something and whatever it was, we … Continue reading

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