“Well if you leave out his personal life, he was a happy man.” —Lynn Brown Jr., business associate of Wallace Stevens It is, of course, old Wallace Stevens, austere as a cow in autumn, …
I’ve become obsessed with the idea of a meadow, a meadow I am not in.
Cliffs, skirted / by smoke-laced air / wrung from blinds, eclipse // faint sighs dripping / down a fence-line’s aura.
Next door, mannequins pose / in lace chemises, faces anonymous, / feet helplessly arched—an uncomplicated / argument on this Sunday morning, grey / as mist itself and sodden with desire
In the year 2000, I was the chief copy editor of my household. We had just gotten a computer a few years before, and, as the eldest child of our immigrant family, it was my job to proofread my …
I make you marzipan from scratch, hang a new birdfeeder outside your window, repot the kalanchoe, reseason cast iron. Eventually, the house is like a flowerbed you laid out with everything in its …
Two coins. Gold glints from each of Toni Morrison’s eyelids. One nugget. A small treasure rests inside the cave of her mouth. Gray gleams. Evidence of a metal-lid tin of Royal Crown Hair Dressing. …
The sun sets. In the line to board the bus, Wayde decides that he only wants one thing out of this journey: an apology. That is the only way he will accept his father. Wayde cares about the hunger, …
according to my therapist, is my body’s / way of saying I’m a gazelle, head bent / to long grass, eating but heeding the puma / who’s tracking me, so I often stop, raise my / face & wait, …
