It beats. It hums. My heart— what else could beat so cold and low as this : make me a list. give me a kiss : Kalamazoo, I love you. Paris, Baghdad, and Beruit, I love you. What more harm can we inflict than gunfire on a summer’s day, a winter walk, what...
THE WOVEN MESSAGE come hide near me I’ll count however long I need to count the insects in the web— I like the still living ones—that beat of wing I hear or the still turned-on ignition of the firefly—I see one’s underbelly blink on and...
When I think of highways, I think of other cars, the open road, corn fields. I think of how limitless, how borderless these highways can be, allowing us to go straight, turn left, or turn right, as we please. But there are also barricades: toll roads, No U-Turn...
SELF-PORTRAIT I did not want my body Spackled in the world’s Black beads and broke Diamonds. What the world Wanted, I did not. Of the things It wanted. The body of Sunday Morning, the warm wine and The blood. The dripping fox Furs dragged through the...
/ You are in the dark, in the car, watching the black-tarred street being swallowed by speed; he tells you his dean is making him hire a person of color when there are so many great writers out there. You think maybe this is an experiment and you are being...