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Poems

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  • Two Poems

    I could never say anything about my father

  • Three Poems

    Typos   Word instead of wood but, sodden, it smoked when it burned. I wrote god for good who was, once–– in my childhood years, crowned with the nimbus of that capital G–– but now tends to be a placeholder for nightmare, tears. Seeking solace in the pastoral, but grove came out as grave and the lymph nodes, irradiated, naked

  • Death and the Miser

    When death comes, it all goes:

  • She Leans

    A house: scoured and scarred by wind, its unpainted

  • SQUANDERED MOONS

    Probes on TV tell the tale of their

  • Two poems by Gentian Çoçoli, translated from Albanian by the author and Henry Israeli

    A hive. Wooden shelter of meaning;

  • Listen Up  Medusa | Personal Narrative

    Seduced by your statuesque

  • The Beautiful Hand

    Not a word.

  • St. Rose of Lima

    Lips weary with chapped hallelujahs,

  • Gott im Himmel and The Corner of Bellington Street and Sparta

    Gott was thicket, thorned, glottal,

  • Three poems by Nadia Mifsud translated from Maltese by Miriam Calleja

    abracadabresque this silence spreading sorrow

  • Five Orgasms after reading Lydia Davis

    You are sleeping beside me, but I can’t sleep, not in this roadside hotel smelling of new carpet and cigarettes. It’s late.