What They Found in the Diving Bell

The first time I saw my mother, she'd been dead
fourteen years and came as a ghost in the mirror,

plucking the hair beneath her arms, and humming
a bossa nova. She lotioned her chapped heels

and padded her bra as if she were alive in the old way.
She said I was born with my cord wrapped

around my neck like a rosary, and ( Read more... )

The Vista ( Read more... )

Fork with Two Tines Pushed Together

It's fast and cool as running water, the way we forget
the names of friends with whom we talked and talked
the long drives up and down the coast.

I say I love and I love and I love. However, the window
will not close. However, the hawk searches
for its nest after a storm. However, the discarded
nail longs to hide its ( Read more... )

The Angel that presided o'er my birth
said, 'Little creature, form'd of Joy and Mirth,
'Go love without the help of any Thing on Earth.'

-- William Blake

Winter Heavens

Sharp is the night, but stars with frost alive
leap off the rim of earth across the dome.
It is a night to make the heavens our home
more than the nest whereto apace we strive.
Lengths down our road each fir-tree seems a hive,
in swarms outrushing from the golden comb.
They waken waves of thoughts that burst to foam:
the living throb in me, ( Read more... )

Musiikin jahtaaminen alkoi ottaa voimille. Miklua väsytti aivan mahdottomasti ja hänen teki mieli käpertyä maahan. Mutta silloin kitara, laulu ja huuliharppu kuuluivat suoraan hänen edestään, ihan läheltä: "I wanna live, I wanna give, I've been a miner of a heart of gold..." Äidin lempibiisi huojahteli tuulessa ja houkutteli Miklun kallion laelle. ( Read more... )

( Read more... )

Everyone I ever loved is standing
on a platform with a gun.

In the cartoon version, a flag pops
with the word 'bang.'

In the soap opera version,
my face turns the color of merlot.

In the haiku version,
metal gleams in the narrow shadow.

In the Republican version,
two guns wrap themselves in a single flag.

In the Langpo version,
idolatry yips yaps paradigm the ( Read more... )

thought begins as small floral bowls  :  they hold
greens -- broccoli stalks,

chopped kale -- against
Chinese blue

very dark, with a greenish
tint  :

the way silence falls to each side

of the knife's stroke, the colors rhyme

softly and I think, I'll miss this when I
die.      This is how ( Read more... )

And the stories he told me now before I fell asleep... In my mind the lycée loomed like a dark fairytale castle, brimming with violence and awful, exciting discoveries. I would ask Louis about Isobel, and he would casually say, 'Oh, she's going out with X,' and I would ask him what he meant, and he would kind of half laugh, half sigh into his duvet ( Read more... )