Inspired by New Frontier by Donald Fagen
My dad he’s crazy, but he’s smart, and he’s built a bunker to keep the plague, the reds, and the rampant fires away. We’re gonna have a shindig in here, he says, lugging in cartons of beer,
Inspired by New Frontier by Donald Fagen
My dad he’s crazy, but he’s smart, and he’s built a bunker to keep the plague, the reds, and the rampant fires away. We’re gonna have a shindig in here, he says, lugging in cartons of beer,
In the Summer of his 42nd year, D.B Welk was awarded the Pritzker prize in architecture for conceiving a futuristic apartment building in Denver, Colorado with no parking spaces and no units larger than 300 square feet. He designed the structure
Hey–is that you
On a balcony in
Some God-forsaken
Foreign land, on
A balcony in the
High mountains
With your feet up
On a plastic chair
Writing poetry?
Heartily sick, sick to the back teeth of these blasted Superdry semaphores bearing down on every street and lane, whichever way you turn. A plague of dunderheads crawling over the earth displaying their membership of the association. Market
In those strange times, she began a new religion, based entirely on the birds she could see from her window. The window was her tight view on the world, although it was no smaller than it had been. The world stretched beyond it, although it was no
A woodsman walks with a rolling motion swaying
to the stepping side—it is chiefly a difference of hip
action looseness of joints
up-and-down knee action
springy with rather rigid hips—
carriage erect
pace long
center of gravity secure
Reprinted from Blip Magazine Archive Vol 13 No 4
I’m at my cousin’s house, watching her fix dinner for her twins, who are trying to toss themselves out of their highchairs. When I take care of them, my only goal is to keep them alive but I don’t
Samo je Početak
Already there is a man
in my mouth waiting
to lay eggs in
Once again with the recurring dream where I am on an airplane that lands on a busy city street and just drives around, wings and all. I have no insight into its meaning, except to say “anxiety,” which, in my experience, is the source of all.
Reprinted from NWW, Summer 2012
The week following his 60th birthday, John Santo boarded a train at Stuttgart, Germany. He was traveling alone. It was evening—the cold slapped the window that pressed his cheek. The train jerked along and the side
Question:
If you run into the wife of the man you had an affair with, what do you say to her?
Do you say:
a) I am sorry fucked your husband, that was a really dumb thing for me to do.
b) If it makes you feel better, it all came back around
Nonfiction
A few days ago the Chinese convert, cabbie Cha, more than a little tedious with his long drawn-out stories from one of the less reputable hadiths it may have been involving talking she-camels whatnot. Totally ignorant of pace and
The photo, creased & torn, faded, tells the story
of my mother who sits on the porch steps,
one of the babies on her lap.
She’s wearing red wedge sandals, a flowery cotton
house dress & an apron (she never wore pants).
Behind her,
Having washed up in London – the East End,
maybe, somewhere between the ancient City
and the Thames at any rate – I became fixated
on certain details that described the state
of the whole place, and my relationship to it.
Take maps of the underground;
The day had no end. Her bed was a universe engulfed with many oceans and combative tidal flows. She could swim, practice breathing or just float.
K. opened her eyes and noticed the strong sunlight in the room. She didn’t want to open the curtains
My grandmother is made from feathers, photo clippings and petrified wood. Keeps a cactus in my aunt’s house, bleeds dust in the door. My grandmother buried, she walks on all fours, long claws obscured in sand and in salt. Sharp painted fragments
Wooden cane hung
on wooden fence –
old man had to blow
his nose, needed
two hands for the job.
If he crooked his cane
across his elbow,
it would tumble
to the ground, distant ground
where he’d
I left the front door to discover what ended up being a 1944 John Deere B tractor parked in the gravel driveway. Not that I’m a tractor guy. I’m not a farm implement,