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He’s become insufferable since that MacArthur fellowship.

J. C. Duffy

I’m the shrunken dead like them, here, greening the sky’s bluer potion.

At the moment we were having that conversation, she already knew.

You could not look at Leila for long, and yet you longed to look at her.

You could not look at Leila for long, and yet you longed to look at her.

The place your truest self inhabited was the place you could not bear.

Diane cupped my cheek in her hand, studying me, memorizing me.

Betsy recoiled, understanding instinctively what was to come.

People only see that side of him. He is still a boy, learning to be a man.

Purple planets, dirt stars. Imagine the carom in the hall, how it sounded.

I’m trying to believe I can sense the river when I can’t. Hard to call beauty an affliction, but I think it is what makes my blindness hurt.

All that I’ve had, I’ve left propped up in a glass vase: cut stems at rest.

Pigeons are born knowing where they belong, with whom they belong.

Sudden camera blurs, blackouts, audio hiccups, silences.

Ideology, all of us inanimate in the face of the onslaught.

“Come here, my good child; sing me Pergolese’s Salve Regina.

My mother said a woman’s handbag is more private than her body.

There it was, the urge to hurt one’s neck by craning toward the dazzle.

Knowing that it will end i saw myself again at the fair popping balloons

Do the work. Every day. Take a step back and see if you love it.

Heat heat and the sky a flame of sapphire, even rocks blazing.

We boarded a ferry eager for foaming water rushing toward our feet.

Early on, Castro learned and opposed the unfairness of things.

Fidel narrates the home video: See the women on the beach? Beauty.

She wondered if tomorrow would fill her with so strange a stirring.