from the collection that dance as if insidemoments passeddecline inbeneath which lies a decaying soulcan fall down surprisingly on a sunny rooftopIn Marrakesh:so thick with teamint it mesmerizeskelp in a cylinder of the seabut for the beesLooking at the top:and that man is my guide so carefreehe seems to be sippingvery furiouslycalm tooOne sticks to
from the collection if you love that woman In Chapman’s enthusiasm for Homer, Keats forgetsWho discovered the Pacific Ocean – Not Cortez StrongBalboa with eagle eyes but on a peak in Darien. where he took out his handkerchief and sawDeath warrant drop of arterial blood,Fate is too deep for tears. years, i was scared Someone
from the collection Ax in Blossom: Final Poems and Fragments So, I thought,as soon as the door was openedAnd the landlord disappeared (no,he really disappeared)and i have to checkRoom invisible.there it stoodIn its gray corner-narrow bed sheetsThe color of old aspirin.maybe all this had happenedsomewhere inside mealready,Or was just about to happen.Is there any difference
from the collection tree of wisdom A wooden door in front of everything. a doorOn my country. A door in the lake. my poems Article continues after ad Give preference to timber hunting dogs. if i say there is aThere is a door to my heart in poetry. Now I can open this door. the
cafe By Holly Paster (Fitzcarraldo, £12.99)Beginning with a sequence of prose poems in which the speaker embarks on an anti-epic quest to open her own café, Paster’s second collection focuses on the nature of desire and despair. Comic timing remains a strength, as does her linguistic flexibility, using language as a weapon in the face