October 2011
14 posts
theparisreview:
“Even when I’m stretched out in my coffin they may find me tinkering with some poem.”
- Charles Simic
Snow, Alexander Colville, 1969
They disagreed about her breasts, but she was wrong. She had never nursed. They had no children. Small breasts are best for the long haul. Even if it was nobody’s fault that there were no children he felt guilty because not having them had left her perfect for him. Their sex had zeal in it. He didn’t mean zeal, he meant something else. Their life together was...
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“At the bar, which one entered at the bottom of a long, dark set of wooden stairs...”
– Nick Rombes: Dana Levin and the Problem of Light
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The Red Wheelbarrow
by William Carlos Williams
so much depends upon
a red wheel barrow
glazed with rain water
beside the white chickens.
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