Alice Friman: The Nick Poems
Do you know what you’re doing?
and she said yes
though deep in her virginity
she knew nothing
but what she wanted
Alice Friman: The Road Not Taken
I stood at the window
leaning my head, there
where the glass was cool
and looked out at the trees
bare now in January
Alice Friman: The Apricot Tree
I’m walking the white-washed steps
winding the hills into town. The odor—
wild thyme and spearmint. And halfway, look,
an apricot tree ablaze with summer, heavy
with fruit.
Alice Friman: Confidentially Pink
When I stepped down from the train
and he wasn’t there
I didn’t panic. I knew he’d come
for I had dressed in pink–
Alice Friman: Puddles
As if overnight, the flowering pear tree
is flowering. A froth of white.
Alice Friman: At the Gates
Paris in June and we are in love. Delacroix, wine, late nights at the Louvre. Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité. And each and every morning Camembert and apricot confiture on a hunk … Continue reading
Alice Friman: Knee High
Whether squatting, standing, or stomping to some mossy memory on the radio, the knee takes the brunt. A heart may pump a million barrels of blood in a life, enough … Continue reading
Alice Friman: All for the Love of You
On the day Daisy just plain died, Kenneth Haydon of Benton “left earth to shake hands with Jesus” and La’Kesha Walker, youngest of six, “passed through the gates of Heaven.” … Continue reading
Alice Friman: What Is This Thing Called ‘Voice’?
To my way of thinking, your poetry matches who you are. Not just in the subject matter you choose or that chooses you, or even in the words you select, … Continue reading
