Poetry
A Photo Found in Black and White
Coincidence did not cause the young man’s cheek to share the curve of mine in his gray, buttered face. His finger-combed hair wet with grease,
Coincidence did not cause the young man’s cheek to share the curve of mine in his gray, buttered face. His finger-combed hair wet with grease,
I dreamed of the day, In the dead of winter, A dreary day, When I’d step off the train And see you there- The day
Meet me in the mountains Of Oregon (Washington’s been having too many fires). It won’t be hard to find me- Just look for the earthship,
That day, Ezzie didn’t fantasize about leaving her husband the way she did every other day of the week, which when calculated, amounted to five
Your voice alights on my armhair, a whiff of cigar smoke— caramel, and ghostly— “Cities die; let them.” Black thing to say. I patter
The day after my mother’s funeral I called Comcast to cancel her cable TV account. A recorded message led me through a series of
The thunder polka of a new romance Began today on my left foot, the one Believed to lead suggestiveness astray. True love’s a waltz: it’s
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