-
About Lucie Brock- Broida’s “Real Life”
About Lucie Brock- Broida’s “Real Life” As I was scrolling through my Facebook feed on Monday, after having posted the previous blog earlier in the day, I discovered Lucie Brock- Broida’s (1956- 2018) poem, “Real Life” (poets.org>poem>real-life). I say discovered because I’d never encountered the poem before. “Real Life” was published in Brock- Broida’s first Continue reading
-
i’ve wondered if marcellus could look up
i’ve wondered if marcellus could look up see through cloud see through the sun see through the worlds that circledeach other like gladiators the pathsby which they circled see allall the way to where the hand wrote watchthe hand writehe never asked my thoughts saidhe knew they conspired evil Continue reading
-
these are the january and the february hours after midnight
these are the january and the february hours after midnighther sleepless attendant opens the door to her bedchambersees by candlelight how nora’s body motionless on the bed’sbecome a row of mountains under snowdrifts of deep sheepskinin a dark cave embraced by white ribs her heart’s a beara bear that warms the ribs and is warmed Continue reading
-
marcellus was a coin
marcellus was a coin taxed from an estate to help pay for claudius’ warson the face of the coin wherewas claudius’ head engravedand on the hind side where marcellus’ worthmarcellus didn’t thinkhis was a peasant’s heartin a skin of soldier’s mail he pulsedin a steel shellin his heart he knew allbut his heart never thought Continue reading
-
in her den dark bedchamber nora
in her den dark bedchamber noralast night before the year endedfull bellied and empty bladdered creptin a thin snow of chemise from her bedsideprayers up onto a thin snow of bedsheetwith every sundown begins a winter Continue reading
-
made more by the danish coloured tunic he wore
made more by the danish coloured tunic he woreover the linen field of undershirt he’d laboured in a skin of sweat and dust for weeks before out of his rank he reacheda dirt worked hand that had clawed fields fistedknuckled at my slept- in nakedness of clothes unflaggedof pennants of banners of emblems the horrorto Continue reading
-
it’s the time
it’s the timethe last sun of autumn’s descendedand the long nights of winter beginthe cook and the kitchener have goneto their rooms but all the bellies are filledand they’re a night and a season away from hungerthe virgin bear enters her bedchamberand nora goes up to her den Continue reading
-
he came to the door of my chamber at elsinore
he came to the door of my chamber at elsinore at the hour in which the legs of chairsand table legs their shadows just begunto appear and i just begun to wake he knocked waited at the door for my feet that all night had warmed themselves under sheets blankets covers under the bedding to Continue reading
-
tell mother father fed me carp
tell mother father fed me carpcarp fished out of the season of snowmeltand out of the season of high water in the elbeand the march and the april of icicle dripand the may and the june of flood werein the carp father fed me i’m sureit was before i remembered that the late winter and Continue reading
-
for you i’d want
for you i’d wantthe early morning still blackfacedfrom the night before to enterin through the window upstage centerthe window that’s east facedor have the sun riseor have the morning light makean entrance into the day through that window with layersof makeup and powder on its face to brightenthe stage and with rouge and lipstick and Continue reading
-
tell the physician
tell the physicianwho steps back to makeplace for the birthof another wintertell him the birth of the winter’s thaw on the childbed is the birth of thewinter’s freeze on the deathbed Continue reading
About Me
I have a day.
Jake's Flea Market 