throwing out my brother’s autograph book from grammar school
Poems Written Before the Executioner
Swan Song
to tears, I am tragically bored the spines creased, the birds alone in their forests whistle sweet little songs to warn the others: this is my spot, my tree, my world you’d better stay away.
How I Write
I write with the tips of my fingers, extended through each digit from crackling knuckle, out from the wrist and down from the elbow, the shoulder, the neck and then the rotting brain, the brain, the mysterious box of rain that I can’t explain further.
Email on Wildlife in Queens
One night I opened the back door and saw a possum wandering through my yard in a relaxed manner.
August in Fewer Words; Transatlantic Telephone; Today’s Weather; Alice and Rebecca
the day before they came back, shrouded in an untouchable truancy like martyrs suddenly sitting up on the battlefield somebody said the word lesbian: that was a word we all knew but had never thought to say, before. “let’s talk about that,” the new teacher said. let’s not, i thought. now I sit next to them in my dreams,
under the shaft of light, glowing like it used to.
A Heavenly Visit
‘I'm creating a pile that can reach heaven,’ explained Sanju.
‘Why?’ asked Chhotu as excitement gripped him.
‘I'll climb right to the top,’ said Sanju ‘and meet God.’
‘Meet Bhagwan!’ repeated Chhotu clapping his hands. Then he paused. ‘Why?’ asked Chhotu.
‘So that I can ask Him to make you less foolish,’ said Sanju feeling happy.