I allow myself, by Dorothea Grossman I allow myself the luxury of breakfast (I am no nun, for Christ’s sake). Charmed as I am by the sputter of bacon, and the eye-opening properties of eggs, it’s the coffee that’s really sacramental. In the old days, I spread fires and floods and pestilence on my toast. […]
Song of the Round Man, by Michael Palmer (1943-) The round and sad-eyed man puffed cigars as if he were alive. Gillyflowers to the left of the apple, purple bells to the right and a grass-covered hill behind. I am sad today said the sad-eyed man for I have locked my head in a […]
Crossing the Square, by Grace Schulman (1935-) Squinting through eye-slits in our balaclavas, we lurch across Washington Square Park hunched against the wind, two hooded figures caught in the monochrome, carrying sacks of fruit, as we’ve done for years. The frosted, starch- stiff sycamores make a lean Christmas tree seem to bulk larger, tilted […]
Message From the City, by Anthony Hecht (1922-1987) It is raining here. On my neighbor’s fire esacpe geraniums are set out in their brick-clay pots, along with the mop, old dishrags, and a cracked enamel bowl for the dog. I think of you out there on the sandy edge of things, rain strafing […]
“I saw a man pursuing the horizon“, by Stephen Crane (1871-1900) I saw a man pursuing the horizon; Round and round they sped. I was disturbed at this; I accosted the man. “It is futile,” I said, “You can never —” “You lie,” he cried, And ran on.
My Voice, by Rafael Campos (1964-) To cure myself of wanting Cuban songs, I wrote a Cuban song about the need For people to suppress their fantasies, Especially unhealthy ones. The song Began by making reference to the sea, Because the sea is like a need so great And deep it never can be swallowed. […]
A Story, by Colette Inez (1931-) There were rumors of a priest old enough to be her father. She was the Latinist he needed for his work on medieval texts. Her family had no reason to suspect her deference to a learned man. She wrote she was swayed by his fame as an Aristotle […]
Intensive Care Unit, by Adrien Stoutenburg (1916-1982) In one corner of the ward somebody was eating a raw chicken. The cheerful nurses did not see. With the tube down my throat I could not tell them. Nor did they notice the horror show on the TV set suspended over my windowless bed. The screen was […]
Homesteading, by Ellen Steinbaum (1943-) I am spreading out stretching my reach to occupy new territory. I am pouring into drawers, taking over space. Only small encroachments first– a shelf of the medicine chest where the aftershave and razors used to be– and soon I own the cabinet and the closet, where my shoes now […]
A Mother To Her Waking Infant, by Joanna Baillie (1762-1851) Now in thy dazzling half-oped eye, Thy curled nose and lip awry, Uphoisted arms and noddling head, And little chin with crystal spread, Poor helpless thing! what do I see, That I should sing of thee? From thy poor tongue no accents come, Which […]