I. A drop of rain reminds me The world was once an ocean A blue blanket folded around us The crests of wool were waves We were close, and warm Panthalassa kept us afloat Until the great ocean dried We circled the whirlpool on rafts
when you blow on the bulb, the false dandelion is a wonder —the white seeds, the teeth, don’t budge from the flower head. cat’s ear. hawkbits. or beards. the wish you think you want runs with milky sap through the stem down your hand,
-for Patrick Parnell, d. 2011 Speaking of hemispheres, in his they found a hidden notch in the inoperable spot under hair, skin, and scalp, the folds and fluid of grey matters, in the deep, “a spurious malignant neoplasm.” Ten months of furious
We were only aware of small parts of ourselves and they became everything. Just our crimson kickpleats. Just our ghillies, the black latticework of ankles, our fists, white hearts clenched around a bit of sleeve. Entrechat. Over — the stiff panels of
It’s fists that make us men. Human fingers curl in on themselves, the thumb folding over the outside. We attack, not with open hands, but with the force of the knuckles. We are advanced. I stood in an apartment over looking downtown Chicago with a
The boy in the green sweatshirt has written “keep your daughters home tonight” on the note he gives Eva to pass to Doug French. She does pass it, while Mr. Houpt writes on the whiteboard: “Teens and Violence” in blue letters. No daughters need protection
It was 5:00 a.m. in the neighborhood. Aman was refreshed. Tent shaped within the larger dome of night. Except for a slit showing her eyes, she was blackened in veils. Aman’s hair was still wet. Doing as her superintendent dictated: a shower for the little
It claimed a padlock yesterday, withered in my hand. In Denny Brovsky’s Ford this morning, my foot pushed through the cab. A coat of paint slows the spread; I’ll surely lose my fence. Anna sliced both legs on the porch rail’s ragged edge. With every
Route 22 has swallowed up too many bodies before their time swerving over medians, yellow lines splashing through sleet. against concrete his body, ejected like cassette tape his tape, pulled out and spilling, coloring the white field with red turned black in the night. where