The ice house raised out of the blank desert canvas like a wart, larger and uglier than everything around it, a boil on the finger of God. Miles and miles of pockmarked beige sand extended in either direction, sporadically dotted with mobile homes and cars raised up on...
On the slow train from Cambridge
To Ely, I am sitting behind two Russians.
A couple, they are locked in conversation,
Oblivious to the fenland steppe outside,
The rain-steeped, raven-black earth,
This England in its midwinter rain.
This boy vacuums the taxidermy. Moves the black nozzle over still-soft hair, over pink-veined ears, polished noses, thick necks. This one looks awfully offended. He’s gentle with the horns. Hardly skimming. Indignant. ...
I confess. I do believe in god. Not an all knowing
all powerful bearded old man on a throne in the sky.
No. No. My god is androgynous, sitting near me
In the coffee shop. Inconspicuous. Strong, but
flawed. With my god, I press my face to the sky.
And I feel the dri...
My mother and father made smoke in the kitchen
over hot pots and pans, over hot water and oil,
over time, over each other’s bellies. They danced
in front of the oven until fire shot from their feet;
showed us how love might look at the end of a long
We Gulp Down Minutes and Hours as If There Will Always be Seconds
I sat in French class gazing up at beautiful words
meaningless to me
sailing softly over my head
the teacher told me and another philistine
to leave the class
to find another
we walked down the corridor ...