Stephen Dobyns: Santiago in Winter
He is gone now, the blind man, tidily dressed
in a suit of dust, with a dusty tie and dark glasses,
who played the clarinet on Paseo Huerfanos,
the paseo of the orphanage…
September 8, 2019 · 2 Comments
Meg Pokrass: Quack
He tells her this: “When ejaculating, I quack.” “Promise?”She’s poking water next to him — tipping front, then back, and then over again, looking at the sky, sideways.He gets her feathers … Continue reading
April 13, 2019 · Leave a comment
Stephen Dobyns: Ducks
For David Fenza Warm in my truck by the lighthouse at Watch Hill on a sunny morning in mid-winter, I observe the ducks bobbing among ice-covered rocks and think of … Continue reading
June 25, 2017 · 4 Comments
