Bud Powell plays Bird
piano flying with notes
Throwing Stones at the Porno Star
It was I who threw the first stone
at her head. I said a prayer to Allah
asking for forgiveness. For a moment
I wanted to see her body. I wanted to
see sin close-up. In the prison courtyard
she was buried with only her head exposed
and naked like a breast. I threw a second
and third stone. I turned to find a fourth.
Even when her eyes closed and her blood
flowed like piss, I did not stop. How could
I? Is this not the blessing of believers?
feathers on my arms
the way they caress like air
his hands only a memory
a ring sitting like an owl
on a bedroom dresser
i close my eyes
to the applause of tears
Space is the Place
love is the last planet in our solar
system. your heart crying like the
rings of saturn. how can we believe
in stars in this darkness? i watch
the sky for your return. inside my
hands nothing but gravity.
I don't know how to drive.
All my problems begin with
cars. I am being driven crazy.
Could you take the wheel?
Is this a right turn or no parking
zone? Buckle up. I like your
headlights. Do you need a ride?
My meter just expired. Do you
have any change? What color
is your car? Do you want to
sit in the front or back? I always
walk, always go, never stop.
This poem is turning green.
when my body divided itself into parts
i didn't see my entire life flash before my eyes
i was distracted by nails biting my bones
hammering my head into the pavement
one hand was turned into a glove of blood
the other was already missing
i saw myself as a small child in brooklyn
ashamed to tell my mother that the money
stuffed inside my glove was gone
in the kitchen i stood by the hot stove
crying and wishing there was somewhere to hide
a young man walks through the doorway
of a cafe and proclaims himself a magician
he is a palestinian whose land has disappeared
where is his mother?
what will he see before he dies?
how many other young men are busy
counting the fingers on their hands?
waiting to escape into paradise
nails exploding in their hearts
I - Old Dance, New Paint
II - A Most Inconvenient Appetite
III - Ground Heavy With Thought
IV - At the World's Well
Credo - Tim Scannell
A Review - Nell Maiden
Current Issue - Summer 2002