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3 Poems

Elsewhere, some later year, I’ll try to be good. Today I don’t care.


Poetry, Fiction, & Nonfiction   

Two Fishermen

For God's sake, / have a little consideration! Why wake him? / Another fisherman was sitting on a stone block, / a stone block glittering with mica.

Two Poems

The difficulty was obvious, an object we always / pressed away from us but that would always reemerge / in the sphericity of the real.

The Heat of Dar es Salaam

On the day I was born, the air was a supple stew—heavy with overripe fruit and armpits, ocean salt, and slow-roasted goat meat. Of course, I don’t remember that day, but I was born in the Tanzanian city of Dar es Salaam—just ‘Dar’ to the locals—and the viscosity of the air is the first thing that visitors remark on. It is what they remember most.

Excerpts from Katabasis Ex-Voto

We moved on low power since the noise neutralizers haven’t thawed from everything. We found rudimentary structures seemingly abandoned...

From the Archives

Two Transactions

He stared down the neck of the guitar like a rifle sight. The shelves in the glass case between us were lined with switchblades, laptops, engagement rings and arrowheads. A small fan on the counter blew only on the clerk. BEWARE: GUARD FERRETS, said a sign taped to the side of the register.

Duplicate of 2 Poems

blame grows small in the moth’s circling / day to day the slightest tooth loosens / a landscape changes until returning by habit

Rites

Papa blew way over the limit on the field test, but he swore it was a set-up. He kept a loaded assault rifle next to the front door, and a handgun under the seat of his truck.

Time When the Birds Turn Silver

time when the turning birds silver time exploding brined like sweet lemons time wolves bark skunks slip into coops fishing line knots up roads slick proud with ice the boys I fuck all eat candy

From the Blog

MASS CULTURE AND THE AMERICAN POET:
THE POEM AS VACCINATION

I once drove around southwest Arizona with a photographer named Pedro, from Mexico City. His specialty was making ethnographic forays into North America,…

Travels with Steve, and Good Writing

My old friend and former teacher Steve Orlen and I walked many miles together along the wide avenues of Tucson, Arizona. Our promenades usually took place…