To cleanse a home of bad smells, those old burn pits from decades ago; bring to the earth and our hands large gusts of rich white billows; welcome guests, let it travel through their hair…
Browsing Category Poetry
“In the Morning” and “The Murderer’s Hair”
translated from the Slovenian by Brian Henry In the Morning Infidels measure their prey by the length of an oar. In every sea there’s some angel in a sunken bell. One day the Pacific Ocean will vanish. We’re making…
The Holy Ghost in Urania’s Semi-Private Hospital Room
for Tchiya Amet To ascertain what measures the offender usedthat allowed him to evade detection and apprehension,we have assembled a research team. Please remove all your clothing,including undergarments,and place them in this bag. ((lightis directional))…