The Poets Speak

  Robin Behn on “In my Thorn Dream” and “In My Path Dream”   These two poems are from my forthcoming book Quarry Cross (heartfelt thanks to Plume Editions!), in which there are about a dozen poems that mention dreams.

Featured Selection

Featured Selection: Bruce Bond

                Lesser Gods and the Suns They Bear   These poems are, in another incarnation, one poem, a book-length sequence entitled Rise and Fall of the Lesser Sun Gods, forthcoming in 2018 from


Book Review: A New Salomè

            Salomè: Donna di Valore/Salomè: Woman of Valor (facing page bilingual edition, translated into Italian by Serena Piccoli and Pina Piccolo) by Adeena Karasick CLEUP (University of Padua) €16, 144 pp. 2017 [publisher’s page:]

Essays and Comment

This Month's Selections

In the Late Style of Eros

Loneliness is a female shark who circles the tank repeatedly, feigning interest in aesthetics, before finally eating the male. The pleasure’s in not yielding to mere lust, or despair. Why bother telling you you look like a man I loved,


Joel and Ethan Coen, 2006     … death heightens every tension and permits us fewer of the half-truths by which we normally live. Laurence Durrell     This is No Country for Old Men. The young Llewellyn Moss, a Texan

Almost Lost Moment

Almost Lost Moment coming back in an incidental way, claiming to be the most beautiful moment of my life:  braiding her waist-length white hair by the Pacific at LaPush.  Hand over hand, the three-way crossings of apportioned strands, and quiet,


I. The heart in vital meter recites. A beat on a childhood table strikes. It strikes. I hear my mother sigh. Plates of grape-leaves, her lemon light, strung on a sacred sigh above my every bite. I couldn’t tell why

Two Poems

“the ugly purple corpse I lug behind me” the ugly purple corpse I lug behind me with all I’ve got, down a blind upholstered hallway: (still inside the big house on Corso Matteotti it appears): swaddled in rags and damp

Two Poems

In My Thorn Dream   The thing is the delicacy of the interwoven twig-vest hovering, not quite touching, but breathing a little when I breathe as wreath and wraithe prickle and twitch inside in the organ the dream drinks its

Ode to My Dap

Soon as I get my dap down I’ll ride uptown and find an all-night salon where Yvonne will synth my Brylcreem with Afro Sheen, my flat-ironed world with Jheri Curl. I’ll wheel and burn my way to the back of


We each were given three licks for throwing snowballs against the side of the school and making them stick.  It snowed so rarely we didn’t know what snow could do.  Lessons were over but we were lingering outside before we

Dog in the Manger

As if you’d keep your bones from other dogs when you were done with them. What nonsense! In any case, why manger? That Christmas child slept in the barn with sheep and cows, not dogs. And doggerel? your bark is


It’s snowing all the time at the south pole of Enceladus Which is a moon of Saturn With the loveliest name And the brightest object in the solar system Reflecting 98% sunlight Its surface like the best powder day So

May Cause

Tinnitus, uncharacteristic willingness to ascend ladders, early estivation, fruity urination, tendency to jump off a train in the Carpathians to investigate a ruined abbey, frequent antichrists, cardiac upheavals see pages 3 to thirty thousand, using a pitchfork to fold towels,