Last night a hand came out of her fish sandwich. She sat in the damp leather chair, staring down at the yellow paper, dark red bread. There were hard fries, like straw rocks, to the…
Browsing Category Poetry
FIRST SNOW. FIRST SOUL. by David Dodd Lee
It wasn’t so much the puppets— They were dead in the sewers hung up along The curbs— Or even a big wedge of corned beef. I picked up twenty knives before I found one…
A DOMESTIC PRODUCTION by David Dodd Lee
A lot different if you spread them side by side. Sheer mouths, see the mountains, stacked to your breast. Each bad feeling goes into the blender. Your middle pieces get hungry. That is a sing-songy …
Paradox Basin
There is fire on the opposite shore. It is the ferryman burning his oars. There is clatter from the opposite shore. It is the ferryman dismantling boards to feed to the current. He knows what…
Jésus Malverde
No one had seen him. They lifted a face from a televised lineup—statesman or actor, cosmeticized singer—then averaged the features and rendered an image in pastels on plaster. Chalked hominid shapes all over the city,…