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PEN American Center

April 23, 14

as a boy, my father used to trap / little brown sparrows, bury them in hot coal, / and slowly eat the charred birds alone / in the green fields, no sounds, / no brothers in sight. // Holiest are those who eat alone. Read More  »

April 16, 14

There is yeast in the air as well / as sadness / I’ll lick the tears from / wherever they land / I just love / to get dressed for the weather / and then later to undress / one glove at a time Read More  »

April 15, 14

For my work and worship I was rewarded / With secondhand inspirations / But they felt new to me, / Mysterious and timely. Read More  »

April 11, 14

For so long I’ve begged bread to criticize salt. Many times, I’ve heard people ask me, whispering, “Why is death always late in Jerusalem, while the march of life becomes another death?” Read More  »

April 9, 14

Having felt the world tremble / And having known // Ruth / In alien corn, / Exposed and at the mercy / Of masters— // Having seen / And having stood / Where history / Clutches our necks, // Having seen / This, / What then / Is next? Read More  »

April 2, 14

The chained man was moaning about how he had gone from office to office to see what the Lord had to offer. / And all I have now, he sang, is a chain and a basket full of fingernails. Read More  »

March 26, 14

Wanted to tell you of the psychic witch who found my life with one eye / though we weren’t speaking then and here you’re dead. / I’ve put a period to end each thought that won’t end. Read More  »

March 19, 14

My lust comes home. Two skeletons / that cannot possibly speak, and don’t, / do not, as I comfort her. The silver buttons on her dress / mellifluous. My fingers in her mouth. Read More  »

March 12, 14

Whereas it could take as long as 16 seconds between / the trigger pulled in Las Vegas and the Hellfire missile / landing in Mazar-e-Sharif, after which they will ask / Did we hit a child? No. A dog. they will answer themselves; Read More  »

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