I think it flashed nacre today
On Minotaur’s skin
Framed in glass
Displayed
On the third floor
Of the Museum of Modern Art in Dubrovnik.
In that early afternoon
Coated with boiling tarmac
And cooled by the sight of bathers under the city walls.
I open my window, and breathe the spring air. I gaze at the new moon. Tonight, it’s incredibly clear. I hear the crickets, hidden in the grass,
I drink wine by the river. I can barely see it, and I hear it as in a dream. Are things as they seem? My wife is now dead. Wind rustles the leaves
War dead fell in patterns around craters, and will long enrich the battlefield. Some forever will inhabit the soil. Survivors, like shadows, return to circle the lush grass; argue possible versions of their own history. Since victory, I offer my…
Dolly’s life and my life proceeded apace, anyway, but only since 1996 overlapping at her prairie cafe. She was only thirty when the former operator quit the lease, held so long patrons forgot “before Bill.” At sixty years, I only…
Because she wore mismatched clothes, and nerdy glasses, too big for her face. She had no sense of humor, knew no trends, and had no taste. Her laugh was hideous, and her curves absent. She longed to be a full…
Terror-struck bees Buzzing in hornets Yellow Sun shooting out of black clouds …………………………………………………………… Buddha in grey stone Melting in White peace ……………………………………………………………. Through stillness of my walk The forest dancing in fog The earth in circles …………………………………………………………… A scream shooting…
My father scraps the salty Marina wind Off his body (nearing the retirement age) Before the sound of the BBC radio announcer, Who declares in his white-collar voice The cessation of the Russian aggression Over the neighbouring spirited nation. He…
Since I am a daughter my mother overshares with me transferring scars through stories that do not leave a mark if my listening brings her healing should i scratch her wounds?
My mother’s pregnant belly feared that God will announce a girl that the neighbors will refuse to celebrate and her father will ask for more but my mother’s fragile heart skipped a beat in sync with mine when she heard…
My Language and I From a language that is written right to left they have assumed my society is backwards.
This morning is bellicose with flame… he thought, surveying the arid landscape. Small wonder that Babur the Mongol hated this…. The Metro rail streaked its hungry lope through prickly thickets, its belly’s churn of bodies bovine and dangle-necked. Scrawny…
Maybe I’ve always chosen the cloth monkey over the wire one, tazing myself with absorption Maybe I chewed the apple straight to the cyanide Maybe I queued behind myself, ouroboros once or twice or ten times over Maybe I’m Sisyphus…