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Monthly Archives: February 2009

I can snore like a bullhorn

and he appears—in his baseball pajamas, it happens, the neck opening so small he has to screw them on— – “After Making Love We Hear Footsteps” by Galway Kinnell

From Gertrude Steins’s “Sugar” (Tender Buttons)

Put it in the stew, put it to shame. A little slight shadow and a solid fine furnace. The teasing is tender and trying and thoughtful. The line which sets sprinkling to be a remedy is beside the best cold.

Dumpty had his finger in most of the crooked pies in town.

Her gaze went so icy you could have chipped it into cubes and cooled a cocktail with it. “My brother’s death was no accident.” I raised an eyebrow – you need a lot of arcane skills in my business – and said “Your brother, eh?” Funny, she hadn’t struck me as the type that had […]

Things that make me happy.

“A Drinking Song” by W. B. Yeats

Wine comes in at the mouth And love comes in at the eye; That’s all we shall know for truth Before we grow old and die. I lift the glass to my mouth, I look at you, and I sigh.

“Slow Movement” by William Carlos Williams

All those treasures that lie in the little bolted box whose tiny space is Mightier than the room of the stars, being secret and filled with dreams: All those treasures—I hold them in my hand—are straining continually Against the sides and the lid and the two ends of the little box in which I guard […]

It won’t be winter forever.

I do hope I’d draw the line at passing out ice cubes with little plastic babies frozen inside

Then the other mothers started cheering and rushing to move the chairs into a circle; it makes you wonder if the games aren’t a way to even things up a little with the non-mothers, a kind of subconscious retaliation for every tactless remark and impatient shake of the head. It’s not that I’m unsympathetic. Honestly, […]

Happy Groundhog Day.

Gassing the woodchucks didn’t turn out right. The knockout bomb from the Feed and Grain Exchange was featured as merciful, quick at the bone – “Woodchucks” by Maxine Kumin

Salt-laced and so tired now.

Concelebratory Shoehorn Review has just published five of my poems.