University of Chicago Press
2024
daydreaming w/ Bob Arnold
Rainfall
Here in the world cocooned beneath the rain, the moist warmth,
the roof of droplets and twigs, the soft blankets of air with a
thousand splashing stings. Here is beauty on her bed of water,
awakened by the sudden fresh transparency, attuned to a pure
idea of herself, drawn like water by glass. In the air where
the water's babbling above fragrant with grass, and suspends from
the tieback of lianas pearl-studded canopies and the crackling
arithmetic of a crystal abacus.
_____________________
Julien Gracq
Abounding Freedom
translated by Alice Yang
World Poetry, 2024
Blow Back
once
upon a time
a boat due
for wetdock
maintenance
and repairs
officers
enlisted men
headed to port
...
...
waste
dumped
fore not aft
in briny deep
by mistake
boat sailed
through a cloud
of trash
what was nuclear
gave the hull
a radioactive
veneer
...
...
atomic footprints
of one hundred men
headed for shore
leave
across the deck
of the submarine
tracked
hither and yon
through the night
to
bars
brothels
trailer parks
families and friends
crew pulled back
for safety checks
...
...
but also
running silent
running deep
to keep it
from the press
________________________
Paul McDonough
Electric Boat
Bullhead Books 2024
from Mojave Ghost
In the city, a weather of zeros-and-ones
cascades through rising static, while here
in this xeric topography, we fold ourselves
into the circumstances of desert foothills
chewed away by leprosies, toothed winds, and
sudden rains. Will you let me
approach you? Bend forward
and touch consequences, tenderness, leave
the trace of my fingertips
on your throat's dimple, your
clavicle, nipple? Lean in. In
my mouth, the sound of
your name has changed.
___________________
Forrest Gander
Mojave Ghost
New Directions 2024
Stopping By Words Spell
Whose words these are I think I know.
Who can really own them, though.
No one will see me stealing here
To watch these words become my own.
My sturdy tongue must think it weird
To mouth such blather far and near
Between your ears, that lovely space
Where song makes clatter something dear.
You give each word a goodly shake
And ask if this is some mistake.
This tune, so familiar, must leak
From the pillow used by Willy Blake.
These words are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have syllables to keep,
And text to eat before I sleep,
And text to eat before I sleep.
________________
John Bradley
As Blood is the Fruit of the Heart
Dos Madres 2025