DICTEE ~

 

R E A D   M E

Tanam Press

First Third Woman Press

University of California Press

1982, 1995, 2001, 2009, 2022

MICHAEL OCHS ~

 

Michael Ochs, right, with his brother Phil, the protest singer, in 1968 in Mill Valley, Calif. For a time, Michael served as Phil’s manager. Credit...Alice Ochs/Michael Ochs Archives, via Getty Images

M I C H A E L   O C H S

Top Collector of Rock ’n’ Roll Photos, Dies at 82

CLIFF CARLISLE TONIGHT ~

 

DAVID GIANNINI ~

              

Something Else

Losing a good-luck charm does not mean losing

good luck or that bad luck will occur more

frequently. That is why Husband looked into

the pickle jar, with its lone occupant.  Husband

thought that if he could remove the lid, after

years of having the jar tightly sealed away

in the dark, good luck might befall him in a

charming, if not charmed, way.

"My view is kind of difficult to explain," said

Husband to Wife.

"It's a belief, that's why," said Wife.  Good luck

with it.

Husband and Wife stood in the root cellar as

Husband held the pickle-in-its-jar to the dim

light of a 20-watt bulb.

"I believe the pickle is still in there, dear," said

Husband.

"Yes, I believe he's there, too," said Wife,

"though the jar is so cloudy."

"Let's call him Something Else," said Husband.

"That won't change the fact that he's still our

pickle in the clouds," said Wife.

"No, I suppose not," said Husband, and he

placed the boy-in-the-brine back on the shelf,

and turned out the light.

–––––––––––––––––––––––––

David Giannini

Porous Borders

Spuyten Duyvil, 2017

JETHRO TULL TONIGHT ~

 

     Reprise 1969

THE WISDOM OF SHEEP ~

 

R E A D   M E

     Penguin 2024

ATLAS OBSCURA ~

 

SACAGAWEA, AMERICAN HISTORY ~

R E A D

or

    L I S T E N 

Christoper Cox, NYT

James Patrick Conin

WILLIE NELSON TONIGHT ~

 

OFF THE TRACKS ~

 

R E A D   M E

ECW Press, 2024

RUN THE SONG (BEN RATLIFF) ~

 

R E A D   M E

Photo credit: Gus Aronson

JOHN PHILLIPS CONCRETE ~

 from CONCRETE

               ___________________________

TELL

The story

begins

where

words end

theirs

THIS

What you do with

your silence

is up to you

What I do with mine

is this

CONCRETE

My voice is

but I don't know what my voice is

Other voices come in I try to

let them speak

but I don't

know where from

I make them up

Sometimes they're people on the street

sometimes people I know

Voices are concrete

SIDETRACKED

Thinking

what I'm

reading

as I'm

writing it

________________________

John Phillips

Concrete

The Bodily Press, 2025

BIG JOE WILLIAMS TONIGHT ~

 

Milestones Records

POETS ON POETS ~

 

R E A D   M E

      University of Pennsylvania Press

      2022

BRYAN FERRY TONIGHT (RETROSPECTIVE) ~

 

  BMG 2024

VISIONARY, HILMA AF KLINT ~

 

R E A D   M E

      Hilma Af Klint, 1885

JUNIOR PARKER TONIGHT ~

 

STEVEN ESPADA DAWSON ~

 

Elegy for the Four Chambers of my Heart

I'm always looking for a mirror

with a family inside it.

If a mirror breaks        which shard

is the family?

                        There are so many

ways to hold yourself

hostage I'm still learning

to love

            my captor.

When You Tell Me You've Grown Afraid

of the dark, it busts every lit bulb

inside me. Please —

put a flashlight in my mouth, Mom.

I will thin

                    my cheeks for you.

Let me light the way.

A River Is A Body Running

The first time I found my brother

overdosed, he looked holy. A thing

not to be touched. Yellow halo of last

night's dinner. His skin, blanched blue

fresco. Patron Saint of Smack. A cop,

flustered tugged up his shorts, plunged

a needle into a pale thigh. He hissed

awake like a soda can. The paramedic

spoke softly in his ear like a lover,

asked him what color yellow and red

make. What is the difference between

a lake and a river? In the corner

I whittle that used syringe into

an instrument only I can play.

Elegy for the Four Chambers of My Mother's Heart

This is an elegy and believe me, it will end

within the small walls of your townhome.

And because I am selfish it ends with your

words and a memory of just you and me

standing above your kitchen sink, pouring

water into an ice cube tray. You tell me

to watch as the water fills up one corner,

then overflows into every empty square.

This, you say, this is how I love you.

_______________________________

Steven Espada Dawson

Late to the Search Party

Scribner 2025

A BOOK ABOUT RAY ~

 

R A Y   J O H N S O N

    MIT Press,2024

PHANTOMS ON THE BOOKSHELVES ~

 

R E A D   M E

     The Overlook Press

     2012