Recently added articles from Poetry:
The Young
Dec 01, 2008; ... You bastards! It's all sherbet, and folly makes you laugh like mules. Chances dance off your wrists, each day ready, sprites in your bones and spite not yet swollen, not yet set. You gather handful after miracle handful, seeing straight, reaching ...
The Beautiful
Dec 01, 2008; ... Into perplexity: as an itch chased round an oxter or early man in the cave mouth watching rain-drifts pour from beyond his understanding. Whether to admire the mere sensation, enough, or hold out for sweeter ornament, vessels of wonder born with ...
The Damned
Dec 01, 2008; ... Kitten curious, or roaring down drinks in Soho sumps, small hours tour buses, satellite station green rooms, or conked out in the bathtubs of motorway hotels, there you were, with muck-about kisses, sharking for the snappers, before hell opened up ...
Were I to Wring a Rag
Dec 01, 2008; ... - no matter how much muscle I might have mustered - my mother was like to come along behind, reach around me to take it up again from where I'd left it, lift it back into my line of vision and in one practiced motion ...
A crush of oily plant and treated white
Dec 01, 2008; ... A crush of oily plant and treated white, wrapt and reached by root, sky-touched and still, a bud in leaf: make of me a body. Oil me, hand and foot, bind me tight and scented green: this is my dressing, done. Ay lived and spoke to what ay was. No matter if you answer. On hand and foot an oil and ...
She had a death in me
Dec 01, 2008; ... She had a death in me, knees drawn up and my bowl and cloth rinsed through with her. As morning takes night, field closes the hare, and ay would burrow into her. Over the altar, catalpas rattle, shadow and bother the branch. Is this her white? ...
Who kills my history
Dec 01, 2008; ... Who kills my history knows it is buried in the same air ay breathe. Only a hair is needed to keep you, mother. Only a fit of bone. Comfort, comfort, ay am my own. Wanting simple, a sun like water, a flow and stir of air. Warm stone, ...
The Leaves Are Falling
Dec 01, 2008; ... Here I am saying "The leaves are falling" - one of those choruses that vie with interminable verses to mock hoarders. Yeah, we get that a palette of winds is a pretty thing: one blurs the anther, another the river splurging on ...
Securitization
Dec 01, 2008; ... In someone's distant algorithm your mortgage was bundled to another's - hedged and stamped a new "security." While it was swapped from investor to investor accruing fees and interest at each turn, your ...
ROYGBIV
Dec 01, 2008; ... The shoemaker's wife ran preschool With a fist made not so much of iron But wire bristles on a wooden brush. She made us recite and learn by rote. Our trick was to mouth words, sound As if we knew what we would one day Come to know, what would ...
Railway
Dec 01, 2008; ... Long before you see train The tracks sing and tremble, Long before you know direction Train come from, a hum Announces it soon arrive. So we tend to drop on all fours Even before we look left or right. We skip the sleepers or ...
God's Secretary
Dec 01, 2008; ... Her e-mail inbox always overflows. Her outbox doesn't get much use at all. She puts on hold the umpteen-billionth call As music oozes forth to placate those Who wait, then disconnect. Outside, wind blows, Scything pale leaves. She sees a sparrow ...
Therapy from the Garden
Dec 01, 2008; ... Panic attacks your pain-porous skin? Imagine the layers of onion, Sufi-circling and circling until there is no tear-making body. If the issue is anorexia, taking starvation's dark spirit-flight, or anhedonia, running from the skin's having fun, consider ...
Prairie Octopus, Awake
Dec 01, 2008; ... The night's turned everything to junipers shagged & spooked with cerulean chalk-fruit, weird berries whiffing of Martians in rut. I forget this isn't my universe sometimes. Sometimes I think I was falling most of my life to land here, a lone ...
Lives of the Watchmakers
Dec 01, 2008; ... Surely there are teeth so small. I have listened for their turning, this frail swell and fall like old blood yearning upwards through the skin of days. Slowly, I am learning their count, though numbers fray in me, and the loaded ...
The Mare of Money
Dec 01, 2008; ... Another dead mare waits in the shoals of some body of water, waits to be burden, borne into a foaming ocean, where it might become food for whales, or, simply empty signifier - hair latched to the sea's undulation like Absalom's ...
Cymothoa Exigua
Dec 01, 2008; ... cymothoa exigua": the tongue as what it is not - blemish and parasite: gimp and glottal stop: what question can be answered with a truant mouth: can the lynched man hung from the sails of a windmill taste the lead pipe wedged between his lips: when the signifiers ...
School
Dec 01, 2008; ... All winter we sat blind, I next to the girl who loved her scabs, the blood shields her head gave up, her face a sun of blank amazement. She drew. This means love: a circle with a line through it. More work: a cross. More crosses. Ice ...
After the Party
Dec 01, 2008; ... Sugar dries on paper plates. The cake's decimated and barely touched. What to do with the balloons? A few float listlessly, unattached, still bearing like bandages the tape that bore them to the wall. They've gone dull, rubber tips darkening to a ...
Branches: A Notebook
Dec 01, 2008; ... I was born during a lunar eclipse in the fall of 1940. My father enlisted in the Army when Germany declared war on America. Soon after my mother and sister and I took an overnight train from Buffalo to Boston, and moved into an apartment on Craigie Street in Cambridge. The building was within ...