Deborah Bogen: Two Poems
I think of the ways we got it wrong. All the things we didn’t know. Who did it — and why — where it was done and how we can think about the Lord’s Prayer as thirteen ways of looking at a tragedy.
Deborah Bogen: Sisters
I’m the last sister standing — but tonight I mean to lie down, to practice being in the box
Deborah Bogen: Bashō
Sweet friend, hear me. There will always be trouble.
Deborah Bogen: Risk
In Sappho, the spaces name nothing — but the emptiness still speaks.
Deborah Bogen: Four Truths About Anesthesia
1/ Maybe this is how it is: as you fall asleep a small hole opens in the back of your head just above the neck where children love to be … Continue reading
Deborah Bogen: October
A train pulls into the station. Passengers break like billiard balls, glide to cars and uses. Ezekiel the pushcart vendor hawks his hot potatoes. This is the month of the … Continue reading
Deborah Bogen: Post-Traumatic Stress Ghazal
Fear fades, but the stain is set, remembered in odd neuron groups, each vignette remembered. The shadow of the bridge that floated on the water, the broken boy half-drowned, … Continue reading
Deborah Bogen: Introducing Kuno Raeber and BE QUIET
. The Scholar, as Artist, Clears the Table Take the plate from the table carry it through the chambers. Don’t be confused by the dust, the spider webs, the sawdust. … Continue reading