#Americans #Jews #Women
Little egg, little nub, full complement of fingers, toes, little rose blooming
What happens when the juice of the… drenches you with its lemony tang, its tart swe… & your whole body stings with… so that your toes sing to your mou…
He still wears the glass skin of c… Under his hands, the stones turn m… His eyes are knives. Who froze the ground to his feet? Who locked his mouth into an horiz…
"...a frozen memory, like any p… where nothing is missing, not even… and especially, nothingness..."… —Julio Cortázar, “Blow Up” Mirror-mad,
On line at the supermarket waiting for the tally, the blue numerals tattooed on the white skins
I am happiest near the ocean, where the changing light reminds me of my death & the fact that it need not be…
If God is a dog drowsing, contemplating the quintessential dogginess of the universe, of the whole canine race, why are we
We have a small sculpture of H… Nothing would surprise him. The beast in the jungle was what h… Edith Wharton’s obfuscating older… He fled the demons
The women he has had are all faces without eyes. He has entered them blind as a cut worm. He has swum their oceans
I sit at home at my desk alone as I used to do on many sunday afternoons when you came back to me,
I sit at my desk alone as I did on many Sunday afternoons when you came back to me, your arms aching for me,
I sit in the black leather chair meditating on the plume of smoke that rises in the air, riffling the pages of my life
She left him in death’s egg, the bone sack & the gunny sack… the bag of down & feathers-all… Somehow he couldn’t get back. It was night,
There is only one story: he loved her, then stopped loving her, while she did not stop loving him.
The house of the body is a stately manor open for nothing never to the public. But