Spanish Prisoners Article

http://www.nypress.com/blog-9507-spanish-prisoners-embrace-solitude.html

portrait

cut-up for family

You & I, we’re the culmination of the C---s, who first drove in like a spike and soon splayed wings like a stilted crane. We represent the diaspora wingspan, the reach of a family that gathered somewhere in Wisconsin – preening, the Midwest, the Dairy Land, tucking its leg in – who achieved bi-coastal status, dipping its full & healthy wings in the deeply volatile Pacific, shadows over L.A. and soon the slowly sloping Atlantic, a feather falling toward NYC. Manifest eager Danes who learned to read early, then to speak, then vote—

a voice, socialist voice of deep concern for our own by whom we mean everyone—

one more lesson, blissfully early learned. We are the independent and thoughtful gift of a sensitive and highly intelligent generation. We are the apex of their kindness, the pinnacle & the forefront of our family, worth what our parents helped make of us, and going it more or less alone, always hard-working, faithful to love. Possibly held a little too close, possibly squeezed until the rebel fire flared a little brighter in our eyes.—

Seized by obedience and early responsibility, I think I trust you most. The heavy side-eye of skittish Heartland Crane witnesses more you than small me, right under the fastened bill.

flier

Never Again The Same --James Tate

Speaking of sunsets,
last night's was shocking.
I mean, sunsets aren't supposed to frighten you, are they?
Well, this one was terrifying.
Sure, it was beautiful, but far too beautiful.
It wasn't natural.
One climax followed another and then another
until your knees went weak
and you couldn't breathe.
The colors were definitely not of this world,
peaches dripping opium,
pandemonium of tangerines,
inferno of irises,
Plutonian emeralds,
all swirling and churning, swabbing,
like it was playing with us,
like we were nothing,
as if our whole lives were a preparation for this,
this for which nothing could have prepared us
and for which we could not have been less prepared.
The mockery of it all stung us bitterly.
And when it was finally over
we whimpered and cried and howled.
And then the streetlights came on as always
and we looked into one another's eyes--
ancient caves with still pools
and those little transparent fish
who have never seen even one ray of light.
And the calm that returned to us
was not even our own.

seaworm

It was a big deal to me//it meant nothing.

"brunch bunch"

experiment 77: silent shout

baby, when they come back,
in 2012,
i'll buy you a ticket.
i'll call the radio station,

delete everything i said,
so we can can we
pleas,

go.
darning mytime
until you're here,
i'mmyown pest
to feel your please,
your grow
& hollowing--

give me back my man

A friend introduced me to the B-52'S in 1984. This song caught my attention and I asked who this was. Been hooked ever since.When I hear this song I want to PoGo and thrash around.I'm 48 now and my wife won't let me !!!!!!!. Not really-The body won't let me!

Bombeta - Joan Brossa

HYPOTHESIS

andaluz

flier

"On Unsuk Chin's 'Rocaná'"

final(?) version

baking poem

some chocolate chips
fell into the batter
& even though you said you were allergic
i left them in

at first nothing
happened & my throat
wanted to cry out
then yours closed

i wanted to see only
to prove your insistence
or more likely
disprove & i was wrong

hanoi