Poetry

Favorite Restaurant

you keep trying to get it right alcohol restaurants tonight’s menu on the placemate again a sweat-crusted "what?" he’s just happy to see you—

Storm Harp

Section 2. "The matter of song is warm air, even breathing, and in a measure living, made up of articulated limbs, like an animal, not only bearing movement and emotion, but even signification, like a mind, so that it can be said to be, as it were, a kind of aerial and rational animal." —Ficino, Op. Omn. (563)

Sea of Red Death and Poiesis of the Better Life

The first neon lights streaking the dawn green luminous golden ultramarine cross-dressed the ship like a drag queen with too much jewelry and fake gold, the last thing we saw was the stern swaying as it sank from that weight through a red tunnel grotto vulva mine or cave and our senses, all of them, made us guttural, vanquished us, made us drool. What they saw was more or less this, that few survived to tell the tale and fewer stayed sane: we were.....

Animals

One by one the animals disappeared either shot or destroying each other or owned by banks or the military, the short dog, the eagle mean and not giving over, the terrible melancholic deer. I admired their efforts in the face of apocalypse and so lined up my inner animals in a similar formation: the happy stupid one, the cheater, the practicing intellectual, the yogini, the softball champion&#

Table of Contents

Poetry

ADVERTISEMENTS
close

DEC 03-JAN 04

All Issues