The Paris Review3d
Poet at Seventy-Eight
You wonder who in the world are the people who actually use stool cards. They’re the very same scum who sell drugs to little kids in school yards.
The Paris Review3d
The Black Venus: For Max Ernst
of Sedona, Arizona, with a blank book for poems. Didn't we emerge from the same prehistoric egg amid sparks of jet & obsidian embedded in the hills of Montmartre? "Only Negroes can excite Paris." ...
The Paris Review3d
The Color of Neville Brand's Front Teeth
mop in Slam sweeping across the floor.
The Paris Review3d
The True Story of Mortar and Pestle
begets cruelty, and, before long, one would have to chop off one's own hand to end the source of self-torture. Yet, we ...
The Paris Review4d
Learning to Ice-Skate
William Charles Anthony Frerichs, Ice Skating (1869), via Wikimedia Commons. Public domain. In Stockholm it didn’t snow on Christmas or New Year’s Eve or at the beginning of January. The days were ...
The Paris Review6d
Klimt and Schiele Confront the Cunt
turned impotent, and had to be divorced. The nineteenth century, for all its love ...
The Paris Review6d
In Memoriam: James Merrill
Saint, terrorist, fishwife. Stench that appals. Famines, machine guns, the Great Plague (your sickness), Rending of garments, cries, mass burials. I'd watched my beard sprout in the mirror's grave.