Tag Archives: William Doreski

Afternoon Art Class

The sallow look of women struggling over their paintings in a long afternoon art class thickens the taste of my latte. We get so bourgeois with age, our faces drooping with candor and our untutored skills flashing in distance we’ll … Continue reading

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Lunch at Wasabi

Rewinding a film in the Eighties. The hum of the projector retracting all that imagery may now seem anachronistic, since we no longer retract anything, but store it forever in deep cold to preserve it. Last night I dreamt the … Continue reading

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One Night in Moscow

At dawn a distant grumble of quarry blasting reminds me of resentment under the flesh. You laugh at how simply I leap from this effect to that. Dew glitters on the last weeds of the season. Garden tools rust in … Continue reading

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Unplugging the Entire House

Unplugging the entire house: lamps, refrigerator, hi-fi, air conditioner, computer, toaster, coffee maker, nightlight, radio, TV, hair dryer, aquarium, answering machine. Powerless at last, I open Emerson’s essays and indulge in the naked word the spirit wields to contact spirit, … Continue reading

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You in the Dawn Café

Discouraged by leaf-slick highways, I stop at the Dawn Café. Slow and crude, the service matches my mood. But there you sit in your mink hairdo, frilly blouse, your suede skirt draping your ankles. Men shaped like pistons eye you, … Continue reading

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Like a Caduceus

The gelatinous mob congeals, crowding me into a corner. I can’t sample the hors d’œuvres from here, the massive chatting-up thunderous. I should go home, but here you are, slipping through the crush to slather yourself against me, renewing my … Continue reading

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Neither This Dream nor That

After midnight, rain dancing on the air conditioner wakes me from a dream of blunt women shuffling packages in an office. I recognized no one. A tough- looking blonde shoved a package in my face, dared me to open it. … Continue reading

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