by Adeline Macdonald Clean steam iron the linen sheets, white and crisp and beautiful and without fault or fold White walls upon white walls with nothing to upset you or hurt you or make you cry or want to leave or want to think Do you love it? Is it…
By David Tuvell I used to run to you, whenever people were too hard, but now I’m underneath of you, and I’ve never been so scared.
by David Tuvell We’ll live in dim half-light before we sleep: this perfect Colgate slush where rocks are buoys romancing the coming moon above. We’ll tread this exhausted paddle, proving life- preserver love. We’ve fallen hard for vinyl siding, that sure-fire sale from Sears, the lines of easy converts that…
by David Tuvell You know me, if words hit harder than crack, I’d push them, blow up blocks. Small talk can’t see me. What you’re suggesting, though, there’s no right way to do it. The idea’s like carrying my wallet in the wrong pocket. Sure, to keep a secret, you…
by David Tuvell In the beginning was the text, which had an argument with silence, and this birthed god into the air. There’s a running argument between god and yahweh, between trees and breezes, between Dickinson and Ashbery. We have set up camp here, in a Japanese zen garden, and…