Island She would cry every time we put her in the carriage. That was all right, and the way I had to lean sideways to...

Tent Sometimes in the morning, before opening my eyes, I dream of our tent, that tiny green dome. From behind its walls thin as skin, I hear birds, leaves, a brush...

I want to write about nipples even though no word is safe I write about nipples because they make me uncomfortable and the things I cannot touch with...

Tossing away sandwiches, chewing gum, cigarettes, he made his heaven from wrappers, commerce’s carapace. Who would discard the meat of the thing: shake out the book and bow to the...

Tossing away sandwiches, chewing gum, cigarettes, he made his heaven from wrappers, commerce’s carapace. Who would discard the meat of the thing: shake out the book and bow to the...

Only whiskey burns the sorrow as she grieves. Purple velvet once surrounded golden dreams. Both a season and a reason left on leave. Now a memory left...

L’Auteur Fatslug   Fatslug wonders how people dreamed or daydreamed before the movies infiltrated their thoughts. He himself has become his own Steven Spielberg— or, depending on his...

I hate you with the sharpness of the edges of a Viking's teeth I hate you from every part of my body - from my...

In the photo of the kitchen fire, We are dressed for Christmas: Me in a flammable hand-me-down jacket, Her in her costume jewelry And her Edward Scissorhands t-shirt.   The...

My father, tangled in the height of adolescence, wept outside Old Saint Paul’s Church as spring died, reading Desiderata. The poem lay inscribed in rock at the...