I’m people-watching beside the towering stone stupa that memorializes the spot where, 3000 years ago, Siddhartha achieved enlightenment while in meditation under a fig tree, and which now lures devoted Buddhist pilgrims from across this world, including the ones in… Continue Reading
For all the Marynissen boys. Technically, he has two arms. He has two hands, two wrists, two biceps. Technically: Andy Marynissen has two arms. With the right side of his body, he is very strong. Can do push-ups one-handed, many… Continue Reading
Brush Made from Baby Wolf Hair This is a traditional Chinese pen, an artifact Combining a wolf’s wildness with a baby’s Innocence. It is soft but strong enough to Write dark history in rice fields, or draw Black pictures on… Continue Reading
Edward Snowden watches the corner of his monitor and the opaque square in the top right flickers, a live stamp of inky blackness that reminds him of the ultrasound video —good god—of his sister’s…that cone of dark, the sudden milky… Continue Reading
My father was a white man who thought Mexican women were exotic He stapled a poster of Frida Kahlo above the marital bed the one in which she is bound in an instrument of torture and her boobs protrude beyond… Continue Reading
Stand over the abyss, look out, enter: good practice for later. Watching tired faces tilt this way and that, emergencies are announced. They are not happening to us. If nothing else, light deserves an ode. A crunching break of sun… Continue Reading
The convenience store clerk affects a sensualist butch persona but has very effeminate wrists and ankles so I started there, left plastic flowers on the counter when all backs were turned. Like a house under an existing expressway the rest… Continue Reading
dublin where there aren’t any redwoods no bears no people who carry guns just city just dublin dusty streets where everything is literary in a book somewhere and used to be beautiful. where everything is just the right size not… Continue Reading
Ah! Of all the many poems listed in this collection of Frank O’Hara’s finest, to think I cannot even find one titled “Rain” seems a mistake. A l’autre côte de la fenêtre, Il y a des petites morceaux de l’eau… Continue Reading
The earth folded and unfurled her layers, forging the green rock veined with the scarlet courage of dragon’s blood to remind you of what you are becoming. There is an olive tree blooming in Italy. There is a gardener planting… Continue Reading