January 2011
16 posts
"You Don't Have to be Broken for Me." →
Contributions to the Fire
I.
An old notebook I pull down to read. Only the first page is filled in. Just one sentence with no period: So much for being brave
II.
Quiet lately, I slip under the covers and read and write, think about the places I’ve been and the places I want to see, all the people I’ve known, the ones I’ll never know, the ones I’ve yet to meet.
III.
At night I fall asleep with a...
At Thirty by Lynda Hull
Whole years I knew only nights: automats & damp streets, the Lower East Side steep
with narrow rooms where sleepers turn beneath alien skies. I ran when doorways spoke
rife with smoke & zippers. But it was only the heart’s racketing flywheel stuttering I want, I want
until exhaustion, until I was a guest in the yoke of my body by the last margin of land where the river
mingles...
THIS IS NOT MY SONG ANYMORE
At Night I Dream
Of a fox at the screen door. At first I am afraid, but then I let her in and she sleeps on my chest, nibbles on my neck. I have to make a decision: to keep her, or to let her go. But I never get that far because I’m forced to hide in a crawl space, dark and cramped, until I wake up to the sound of buzzing in the air.
Not that it begs interpretation, but I was curious about the fox, and:...
“You find yourself in the wrong family by mistake. We’re all princes and...”
– Philip Pullman, who believes that each person has a story, and that it begins the same way for all.
The Magician Pulls Off His Coat to Reveal the...
I.
Twenty minutes into 2011, a ghost texts me, a nickname dangling at the end of his message. “Happy new year, B.”
II.
After we broke up, I tortured myself. I read old emails, long novels we wrote to each other before we ever even touched. They were electric, humming, a hot summer afternoon that never ends. He was something I thought would never happen to me. Like catching...
5,000 Birds Fall From the Sky Just Before Midnight... →
