Temple Street Night Market

poetry
  One fortune teller says someone could walk around with a gun, shooting into the air and the bullets would not strike a living soul. Another says she invited a…

Fragments in a Burger Joint

poetry
  It was raining when the candles finally came out smelling like dish soap. The restaurant was empty so Damien and I scribbled in our notepads. I’ve worked at so…

Elvis at NYU

poetry
  An Elvis impersonator was invited to give a one-day graduate seminar at NYU. During the talk, the impersonator demonstrated such techniques as the knee drop, the one-arm windmill, and…

Milk

poetry
  At first, infants love us for our colostrum.   A few days later and perhaps for months, our milk.   Eventually, though, children love us for nothing.   My…

Things I Am Saving to Write

poetry
  for Harry and the snows of Kilimanjaro   How airports are cathedrals, each line a pilgrimage. The tilt of an airplane as seen from the last row, its windows…

It’s obvious

poetry
  When I’ve been crying. My face, a puffy moon. Heart, mean and wounded. My voice, a flat slick of fat on the soup top.   Last night I dreamt…

get angry that there is no field

poetry
  in no field, there can be no horse grazing on no wildrye or wheatgrass,   no yarrow teeming with no ladybugs, no bubbling cumulonimbus in no   baby-blue sky,…

Intersection

poetry
  Fish have something in them called a lateral line—this is what helps their schools stay together. When they want to stay still, they face upward. Into the current. Truth…

Temptation, Expulsion

poetry
  A streetlamp scorching the cloth of night, a barbed acanthus on a wrought-iron fence, he was a platter of lemons and salted wounds. He could not tend. He seeded…