I crossed the border into the Republic of Motherhood and found it a queendom, a wild queendom. I handed over my clothes and took its uniform, its dressing gown and undergarments, a cardigan soft as a creature, smelling of birth and milk, and I lay...
62. You would have been 62. I would have given you a Roosevelt Road kinda time, an all-night jam in a twine time joint, where you could have taken over the mike and crooned a couple.
The place be all blue light and JB air and big-legged women giggling...
And then smelling it, feeling before the sound even reaches him, he kneels at cliff's edge and for the first time, turns his head toward the now visible falls that gush over a quarter mile of uplifted sheet- granite across the valley and he pauses, lowering his eyes for a moment, unable to withstand...
My mother says I sure was heaven-sent & determined on making her life hell— cried every afternoon, & not one spell worked. She rocked, she sang, made all the attempts of too-young mothers. Don’t they say the scent of a mother’s neck, & her voice,...
Are the drapes drawn open or being closed? Each of the heavy, velvet wings is clasped in the hands of a little angel, a little man really, in the shades of plum and mint green that frame the birthing tent's opening for a girl who...
my mother had two vaginas one to birth me and one to keep me inside the first one I had two names my given name and my other given name my twat had a name too it was forgotten because the climate changed the climate changed...
Reed, who’s got one strike left before he gets life, tells me afterbirth is what the cougars are after. “Lambing season,” he says, “plus, placenta’s a delicacy to a cat.” I try to explain how
I turned twenty-four and dad decided to take another stab at making a man out of me. On his command, I drove us out to Hollywood where you could get three sets of suits for a hundred bucks. What a steal! he exclaimed as though his enthusiasm would fertilize something that...
I wait and wonder what I’d do if someone said pick your 60 best poems. Pick all of them? Or any? Maybe commit suicide, but everyone would say “It’s because he’s really gay,” or...
I’m back again scrutinizing the Milky Way of your ultrasound, scanning the dark matter, the nothingness, that now the heads say is chockablock with quarks and squarks, gravitons and gravatini, photons and photinos. Our sprout,
Ecstatic experiences with nature This is an automatic furnace Do not drop or roll Do not handle with squeeze lift truck Handle with care This is a piece of quality assured Home heating and cooling equipment The Ohio Valley Container Corporation Made its container to stand A resistance bursting...
What are you going to do With what is left of yourself Now among the rustling Of your maybe best years? This is not an auto-elegy With me pouring my heart Out into where you Differently stand or sit On the Epidaurus steps. What shall I say to myself Having...
Say licked clean at birth. Say weeping in the tall grass, where this tantalizing song begins, birds perched on a crooked branch over a grave of an unending trek into the valley of cooling waters. The soil’s thirst, lessons...