Three Poems

Three Poems

ON BECOMING A FAN lucha libre (\loo’-chah· lee’-bray\): 1. wrestling 2. Mexican style wrestling known for its high flying aerial power moves and wrestlers that use masks to abscond their identities. Don’t Blame masks. Blame smoke. Blame the tricky sorcery of shiny...
Three Poems

Three Poems

Glacier Because there are many ways to lose yourself: with a blue heart gushing into the ocean, or sighing like a city that has tired of standing. With popsicle breath, like a child in summer. To make shattering skyscrapers of your guts and sailboats of your bones....
Two Poems for Jarret

Two Poems for Jarret

Birthday Poem for Jarret Jarret, will there be an ice cream cake with your name written in tomato ketchup at your birthday party? Will there be trick candles at your birthday party, Jarret? Because I hate trick candles. Will there be any balloons at your birthday...
Two Poems

Two Poems

One Had Lived in a Room and Loved Nothing One had lived in a room and loved nothing. Full of spiders and what memory remained, one had loved and she had forgotten things. Clock stopped and aeroplane lost in the dark, and who was that voice on the telephone? One had...
Two Poems

Two Poems

JODIE FOSTER I don’t know if this is goodbye or the same form of farewell you began whenever you first suffered a love that bloomed under the attention of silence, ether of the word drawn back into your young body like a barely noticed breath, smoke returning to a...
Hector

Hector

or Paris. Or hawk or moth. Or paper or feathers or any number of ways to look at the armor of this, plumage of that. Or how a father’s disappointment seems to cloud these things; how it engages the fight, masks the retreat. How much like a coward. How the arrow flies,...
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