In my memory my mother isin the shallows, maybeshin-deep, swishing minnows into a blue bucket.In my older memories my sister was helping, because she was;but we don’t speak anymore, sonow she isn’t. At least,now I don’t remember…
Browsing Category Poetry
Something about Dizzy Playing Tin Tin Deo
Something about Dizzy playing Tin Tin Deo is driving a city streeta slow in the summer whale of a carwhen even without accelerating you are making every lightand the song is both your driving and on the radio…
A Slow Petrification
After Manahil Bandukwala’s “Petrify” Your body did not decompose into dust but began a slow petrification.There was no stench of rot, no flies birthed in your skin, only a rough texture forming. The rough texture…
Not in Ourselves
I. Theo Opening again the arrantcorrespondence—relief of the sown fields,bread of affliction:a restless brother burnshis way to harvest,painting space as thing,as woodcut furious,flinders of fire and leaf,heavy, sun-dense strokes, dark notes dealingfor fugitive effects;a red brother workingpetitions…
