Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Poetry’ Category

Sports Towel Woman

(for Nankyung)

Friend gave me a towel,
maroon, embossed with
her university’s tiger logo,
made in Korea, as was she.
(more…)

Advertisements

Read Full Post »

Ribbons of Color

Most often on Monday nights
I would hear my mother wake,
her floor that was my ceiling
going brassy with its rusted nail harmonica
as she traipsed
the width of the room
the length of the room
the length of the space
going to lengths
going to the closet to the closet
where she kept her corsets (more…)

Read Full Post »

Summer Mourning

I tell Aimee August
is out of tune.
Tonic

and major 7ths. Cicadas
drone and whine, keep

me from getting sleep
at 3 am. Snooze

alarm for summer. The dog-day rattle
wakes the toddler next door, her feet

cadence the wall at 4. The garbage
truck wails as though synthesized,

amplified. After 5, the scream

of traffic-cop sirens. Cat-birds clash
like steel strings, dropped D. I squint

over coffee. It’s not out of tune,
Aimee says. That’s rock-and-roll.

Donna Hunt

Read Full Post »

“You are obligated to forgive me, you created me.”
A common complaint of the Son.
“You must forgive me to receive my amends,”
retorts Mother.
Life is book-ended with involuntary bowel movements,
and so many spatterings in between.
At birth and death, IBMs,
that’s the holy shit.
(more…)

Read Full Post »

Insides

We French kiss
the diesel fuel Chicago summer
sunburned in our underwear
half a grapefruit each, which we eat
without spoons.

Of all the balconies in Wicker Park
this is the only shared by two
involuntary saints
(more…)

Read Full Post »

Grant Writing

Amidst the mechanical technicality of your grant-writing,
I want to give you words that taste in your mouth, your mind.
I want to split your muse open like a cantaloupe

or milk your thoughts like a coconut:
images and musings to roll over your tongue
with a sweetness that buys the page
and throws away work for the weekend.
(more…)

Read Full Post »

Nothing better to do
while waiting for you
then to read the magazines
on your coffee table.

I thumb through
to the horoscopes,
hone in on Leo.

One issue, it proclaims
I will meet the perfect man.
And I thought I was
the perfect man.
(more…)

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »

%d bloggers like this: