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Two Poems

Tattoos (for E)   They come with stories. Like the woman whose thorny twist around her shin did not bear roses, but eyes. Her children’s eyes, lashed almonds of colour, peeping from the leaves.   My tattoo for you would


Hank Lazer (Professor Emeritus and Associate Provost Emeritus) has published twenty-three books of poetry, including Poems Hidden in Plain View (2016, in English and in French), Brush Mind: At Hand (GreencupBooks, 2016), N24 (Little Red Leaves / Textile Series, 2014),


—Eze. 12:12   Reaching from history, that alpenglow, towards the dead whose clothes I wear tracked from room to room, the prodigy house we’ve built from the ambient low-fi hum—You pass your tongue through it. But what are you, the

Perfect Air

From The Course   Put book down As if Spine up You think Look out, window See what Shave hours Where’s that What’s was Where the fuck You say Is Carmen Phone rings That’s then There the fuck’s Say Hello


A gunshot: the trigger so light he’d hardly known he pulled it; another man’s pistol grabbed from an antique table with clawed feet that he had bought last week—   before the fight and her departure— bought driving to Memphis,


I never remember to ask what it is you are mowing in your fields? Is it hay? But if it was you’d say haying as I say watering–that and carting away the dead branches. For years we just piled the


                                  for my best friend, my protector, my mom   There is a world where all of a son’s battles are fought by his

Two Poems

Jukkasjärvi, Sweden   “It flew like a little bird its bright border gleaming”   From “Mourning Cloak”—Göran Sonnevi       In Jonas’s story, the old woman comes out the door of the abandoned house to throw her pail of

Two Poems

This Dog   Maybe I’ve chosen life—not just the life of this dog I’ve rescued from the shelter, but my own life, mired in the same books—Anna, Elizabeth, Jane, the same solitary walks– no tugging– the doctors’ offices changed now

Two Poems

Aperol-Spritz   (Zürich)   Across the river from the Grossmünster and its pepper-pot towers, Charlemagne in his niche with a gold crown to wear, an iron sword across his knees,   we sit in Winemarket Square drinking Aperol-Spritz by the

Two Poems

The Russian Senior Building. Newark, NJ          Those who are younger-younger play their bingo, those older-older dance their tango, while the tan hallway rolls its carpet toward the elevator with no final flight.        Stop – those revolving won’t all stop

A Story about the Bees

after Robert Hass   I still have the bees she gave me. I keep them on the sill above the sink, stare at them while I soap dishes—frail husks dumped in a heap. If I cracked the window, wind would

Three Poems

Three from The Ringing of the Rain has a Forgiving Grace   05-08 We all become the raindrops’ filling in the blanks Become a sour longing longing so Become a someone else’s yearning to become a someone’s stealing away ’n

Two Poems

ON THE RMS QUEEN MARY     I’m exploring the decks, the ship docked in Long Beach since ’67. Same liner Mom sailed in ’39 from England to marry Daddy. Relic of a past the well-heeled now are recreating, “cruise”


Mr. Darcy talks to the same woman says the same things   over and over every waiter looks like him Barbie Chang   slouches on couches ready for redlining there are red lions in all   of her dreams they