in him those brave
translunary things
Michael Drayton
1. Police Report
Not the hustler,
a boy you’d loved—the Roman
convicted of your murder
on the beaches of Ostia.
Or Maria Callas singing,
Ecco il velen di Laura. . .
It was the stolen film rolls,
and the Mafia, discreetly
extorting you, Pier Paolo, for Saló—
2. Post-Mortem
A pipe; smashed testicles.
Run over by my own car—
my carcass, a receptacle
on fire. What a lonely bastard
“Impresarios capitalized on women’s growing participation
in public life as a form of salable novelty.”
—DR. JANET DAVIS
How you labored—Zazel, the human
projectile. Your body flung, a shot
It took a global pandemic for me to organize my life –
journals, photos, ideas, mementos, clothes, closets, and junk drawers.
I have five bathrooms, a basement, a third floor, and …
This poem was translated from its original Spanish (included below) by Madeline Vardell.
Carla
this morning I’m drinking coffee alone
years ago we drank
coffee and beer in the mornings
And …
My girl still needs to memorize the prologue
of Gilgamesh by Friday & so sticks it
above the bathroom sink & to the window
inside the old Subaru, repeating weary …
In this story, there is a girl and there is a donkey. What good friends they are, and they began as strangers! He has taught her everything she needs to …
human body, silver, glass el Templo de San Francisco, Puebla, Mexico When Sebastian was told not to give his cloak away— he was constantly giving away wealth (his last loaf of bread, …
by Colette LaBouff Atkinson I’m done with birds. Small romantic time-bombs I imagine I might hold and see up close. Nothing waits and everything disappears into a tree. Having flown off …
The mountain I hadn’t met lamented. It was you’re welcome; I’m sorry you don’t belong. It stood, said you don’t fit—sun hitting its middle—but stay. Far off, Gladys …
Once in autumn’s ease date palm branches swung over my back, sugars creamed inside their skins— I’d never have guessed owls would nest in anything called the phoenix, that we’d …
