Bookmarks It might be a receipt, a bus ticket, or if you need that ticket to return on, the foil paper ripped from a half-packet of gum, an old hairclip, something humdrum, a pen, or even, in desperation, a tissue, slightly used (do not judge them) or whatever else can be foraged from the handbag’s […]
The Standards Line Beneath ice-tipped oaks, half-angry, amused, wandering beside a party of the beautiful — women in evening sheath and wrap coats, Chloe satchels, furs; men at their MacAllan and Maduros. I come upon her, reading Ferrante on a daybed, Manhattan in a chilled tumbler on the floor. Barefoot, lost in lyrics of Bewitched,
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Life After I sit alone, where the jetty soaks its bony ankles in the tide. Bladderwrack drifts, and the waves keep gentle company with the shore. Dusk muffles the lonely curlew’s cry. The reed beds stir: a silent eel wrinkles the water’s surface. A sea breeze ruffles my heart, and I breathe out the remnants
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three Resurrections GOAT On the 6th of January, in the year 2000, a goat, perhaps not the greatest goat of all time but, nevertheless, the last of her species, a bucardo, passed away when a tree fell on her in the Spanish
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I thought of you I thought of you as gentle sun light dancing in my hair, and as the dandelion seeds that float on hazy air I thought of you as springtime rain that falls and runs away, and as the sweet pink honey in the clover,
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Barcelona During the night I play dead for 6 hours or so, my last rites sung out by drunken voices on the Rambla. There is a wine spot in my dreams, which always seem to take place at the end of my second cousin’s quinceañera. You’re always there – of course you are – your
in that life I’ll have a dog or a cat and it will be the only thing that knows me, my spirit will wear walking boots thrust into the woods, my hair will be thick and understood, I will eat perfect mouth portions, have a single elegant bowl for each occasion,
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prelude i So here it is. Sophie never existed. And yet. She’s the unfinished vitamins. She’s potential caught briefly in a knot of cells. A handful of heartbeats. The dates on my calendar made free.
Those Environmentally Inaccessible Neanderthal Caves of Include Me Nevada Evidence of our forebears’ cliff cave pollution spreads. From way up here an irregular series of white dots. Closer examination reveals old washing machines, dryers left out to soak up some sun. If you listen carefully below the
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Hole What would Emily say if she could see the movie adaptations of Wuthering Heights? Would she think Hardy was the proper Heathcliff, more so than Fiennes or Dalton? Would she accept Emma Mackey’s portrayal of her in Emily? I wonder what she would think of Kate Bush yowling on the moors in a red
