My fortune was a tawny boy who sang himself to sleep. He ran behind his father to the market, brought us dripping bags of olives bulging bigger than his cheeks. One buckle on his left shoe dangled trailing in the filth, and so I used to scold and make him wipe the floor. Isn’t it funny that I want to find his shoe? I can’t. I can’t. And I can’t find him in t […]
one more for the taste of sawdust on your neck and two paint cans cracking open in the corner (they were smiling) it’s for yellow lights on poles that called up moth clouds and mosquitoes, but still let us see the stars from the plywood door another for the hum wood glue, turpentine, and menthol on your clothes black fingers creases and the spokes of a small […]
If I were a rich man, I would lay me down among the gulls and terns along the shore, and open up my eyes to the wayward stars far-flinging over moons and worlds and galaxies. If I were a rich man, if I were the sum of all things great and strong and glorious, I would bury my feet in sand and stone, and let the surf wash all my earthen flesh to bone.