#AmericanWriters
I try to keep falling in love if only to keep death at bay.
For David Karetsky (April 14, 19… Putting the skis down in the white snow, the wind singing, the blizzard of time
Here, at the end of the world, the flowers bleed as if they were hearts, the hearts ooze a darkness like india ink,
She leaps into the alien heart of the passerby, the drunk, the girl who spouts Freudian talk over Szechuan food. She is part herself,
Knowing our lives a drowse towards death (attended by dogs & children) how can it not matter
Looking for a place where we might turn off the inner dialogue, the monologue of futures & regrets,
For Naomi Lazard Sometimes I can’t wait until I… —Naomi Lazard My friends are tired. The ones who are married are tired
Little egg, little nub, full complement of fingers, toes, little rose blooming
I sleep with double pillows since… Is one of them for you-or is it yo… My bed is heaped with books of poe… I fall asleep on yellow legal pads… Oh the orgies in stationery stores…
She was not a slender woman, but her skin was milk mixed in with strawberry jam & between her legs the word pu… & her hair was the color of wh…
We have a small sculpture of H… Nothing would surprise him. The beast in the jungle was what h… Edith Wharton’s obfuscating older… He fled the demons
For centuries we have lain like this, our warmths intermingled, our hearts beating the same two-step,
A bespectacled artist called Lear First perfected this smile in a sn… He was clever and witty; He gave life to this ditty - That original author called Lear.
On the first night of the full moon, the primeval sack of ocean broke, & I gave birth to you
It used to be hard for women, snowed in their white lives, white lies, to write books