Public Lives/Private Lives
LaborMy handwriting is rough, a prisoner’s scriptedletter, the cropped fields and your winter handsfolding into my pockets for lack of gloves.I could go in any direction in this field… More
On Public Lives/Private Lives
Without a sound she sight-reads The song of the letter Sings each sentence on the breath Of the one who wrote it More
How She Penetrates
According to family lore, there was a great bonfire in which all of Jane’s possessions perished. Her journals, her clothes, her scrapbooks, her books, her typewriter, her school papers,… More
Non-Military Statements
Non-Military Statements1Yes, I did write in my letterthat I would wait for you forever.I didn't mean exactly "forever,"I just included it in the rhyme.2No, he was not among them.There… More
The First Novel
The First NovelBe my heroine, whispers the Novel to the Novelist.Love me and die for me! orders the Novel to the Novelist.Poetry, please lend me your blade, cries the… More
The Last Iraq
The Last IraqEach night I sit Iraq on my tableand pinch his earsuntil his eyes fill up with tearsof joy.Another cold winter, crisscrossed by jet fighters.Soldiers sit on a… More
History of My Face
My lips came with a caravan of slavesThat belonged to the Grand Sanussi.In Al-Jaghbub he freed them.They still live in the poor section of BenghaziNear the hospital where I… More
Barrio Sin Luz
¿Se va la poesía de las cosas o no la puede condensar mi vida? Ayer—mirando el último crepúsculo— yo era un manchón de musgo entre unas ruinas. More
Zargana: Oblivion
OblivionAt night the moonbeams snap.The stars are suffocated.That maligned, unhappy barn owlscreeches out its grief.The old train on the trackshurtles to its destructionwheezing out its last breath. And I? I… More
Recyclopedia
Kill bugs dead. Redundancy is syntactical overkill. A pinprick of peace at the end of the tunnel of a nightmare night in a roach motel. Their noise infects the… More