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Xin Bao had gotten drunk and stolen a hyacinth macaw.

Ever since she believed he was cheating, she felt erotically obsessed.

The letters combine into words that resurrect the beloved every time.

Riding back from her studio, Ivy thought, I’ll just stop for a minute.

Nothing holds the universe together; nothing is the secret force.

She takes her shirt at the waist and pulls it up slowly: her hips, belly, bra.

Today is my favorite kind of day. Night opens, light concedes.

Logic is such an elegant weapon; and religion, such an easy target.

Once upon a time, a couple wandered in a glass forest, hand in hand.

What if it does choose, the egg, I mean, her favorite spermatozoon.

I sometimes have to laugh because even now, as a middle-aged man.

Coil of metal, coin of wood, two-headed and soft in the middle.

For days after she left him, he roamed the house, unable to function.

The hymn that’s resurrected from the hymnal aspires to the spiritual.

I found it impossible not to imagine a radiant future for myself.

The proper qualities of each sex are eternally surprising to the other.

This is a crafty story and things are not what they seem to be.

Poets need to be
in constant touch with the extremes of feeling.

An awkward, unscientific lie is often as ineffectual as the truth.

“How is it fair that you know who I am but I have to guess about you?”

He could see I was American, but I thought he was unlikely to harm me.

Laurie Saurborn Young

Her top lip lingered behind, pressed between his. They were soaked.

The hut was cluttered with the skulls and bones of small animals.

Order and gardens. Penelope liked things to grow just as they would.

How do wheels and wind-trash weave us into wakefulness?

As a shadow I arouse you will you believe the truth of my mouth.

Not long after Christmas, the smoke really hit Melbourne.

I broke up fights, bandaged cuts, fielded calls from parents, and sat with the sad or depressed.

I have many dreams, I say. In my dreams I am better than myself.