January 2009
12 posts
Another Insane Devotion
Another Insane Devotion
BY GERALD STERN
This was gruesome—fighting over a ham sandwich
with one of the tiny cats of Rome, he leaped
on my arm and half hung on to the food and half
hung on my shirt and coat. I tore it apart
and let him have his portion, I think I lifted him
down, sandwich and all, on the sidewalk and sat
with my own sandwich beside him, maybe I petted
his bony head and...
If We Were Honest
If We Were Honest
BY ALBERT GOLDBARTH
When I tell you that cultural ritual is an artifice
composed of simultaneous social-dynamic complexity vectors acting in anthropometric units,
I’m thinking of sex. I mean it.
We all are. It isn’t just me. Or when I say
the war, or the god, or the list with the juice and the cereal…
sex. What is it the psycho-experts are claiming?—every ten...
Snowden - Anti-Anti - Between the Rent and Me
NOVEMBER 1968
Stripped
you’re beginning to float free
up through the smoke of bushfires
and incinerators
the unleafed branches won’t hold you
nor the radar aerials
You’re what the autumn knew would happen
after the last collapse
of primary colour
once the last absolutes were torn to pieces
you could begin
How you broke open, what sheathed you
until this moment
I know nothing...
“Oh Romeo…”
– Shakespeare
oscar ortiz duarte
I can feel the soft insides of her. It is nothing. Like a finger pushing into dirt. I could do this for hours. Which is exactly why she wants me here. They all want the same thing. A romantic encounter with Don Juan. To be desired, to desire, and to die. I read somewhere that sex is death. That with each orgasm we die.
She’s moaning softly under me now. I move softer now, hold her closely. I...
oscar ortiz duarte
I can feel the soft insides of her. It is nothing. Like a finger pushing into dirt. I could do this for hours. Which is exactly why she wants me here. They all want the same thing. A romantic encounter with Don Juan. To be desired, to desire, and to die. I read somewhere that sex is death. That with each orgasm we die.
She’s moaning softly under me now. I move softer now, hold her closely. I...
My Adventure with Lexapro
“I’ve been unfortunate, it’s true, hard-hurt and despised. But should I tell that tale to every passer-by? Should I make my unhappiness into a placard and spend the years left decorating it?
“There is so little time. This is all the time I’ve got. This is mine, this small parcel of years, that threatens to spill over on to the pavement and be lost among careless...