#Americans #Jews #Women
Looking for a place where we might turn off the inner dialogue, the monologue of futures & regrets,
If God is a dog drowsing, contemplating the quintessential dogginess of the universe, of the whole canine race, why are we
Little egg, little nub, full complement of fingers, toes, little rose blooming
When the devil brings him, like a Christmas puppy, examine his downy fur & smell his small paws for the scent of sulphur.
The lessons we learned here (fumbling with our lunchbags, handkerchiefs & secret cheeks of bubblegum) were graver than any
Unable to bear the uncertainty of the future, we consulted seers, mediums, stock market gurus,
When I am an old lady the young men will come to me & sit trembling at my trembling
The whole world is flat & I am round. Even women avert their eyes, & men, embarrassed by the messy way
At dusk Demeter becomes afraid for baby Persephone lost in that hell which she herself created
You sleep in the darkness, you with the back I love & the gift of sleeping through my noisy nights of poetry. I have taken other men into my tho…
On the first night of the full moon, the primeval sack of ocean broke, & I gave birth to you
Broken ivories playing the blue piano of the sea. We have come
The lover in these poems is me; the doctor, Love. He appears
She leaps into the alien heart of the passerby, the drunk, the girl who spouts Freudian talk over Szechuan food. She is part herself,
It used to be hard for women, snowed in their white lives, white lies, to write books