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Poems

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  • Two poems by Adélia Prado (from Miserere) translated from Brazilian Portuguese by Ellen Doré Watson

    On what might be called a street,

  • Cosmology

    Someone has spilled the moon

  • Tartine. Quasi-unfamiliar. To handle a relationship

    In her teenage years,

  • Little Black Dress and Julia

    Puddled at my feet or ruched

  • When My Son Is Dead 14 Years

    These are the years I bargain with God.

  • A Lean-to at the End of the Galaxy

    You fire a fiction deep into my brain

  • Annunciation

    I learned to hide the wings, almost immediately,

  • Confusing Myself with the Whippoorwill

    Today, I was a madness of regrettable actions. At the convenience store, I eyed the cashiers warily as they slouched in

  • Home

    Those last days in Hollywood—

  • Cardinal

    The drill of its song    the whoop whoop whoop

  • It’s Not Your Fault

    The brass lamp in your window,

  • The Barricade

    The barricade measures two meters high and twelve meters wide