Coupé-collé (d’après W. Burroughs)

J’adore proposer dans mes ateliers  d’écriture des exercices qui poussent un peu les limites du bon sens et de la logique. C’est en explorant cette limite qu’on accède, parfois, à l’indicible, l’impensé, bref: la poésie. Ce poème vient de là–une méthode qu’affectionnait William Burroughs. On prend deux textes, on les coupe en morceaux, et puis on […]

What I See When I Think of Next Year …

There are no trucks: only pigeons. No steam-spouting trains: only pigeons flirting with pigeons. No lawnmowers, no leaf-blowers, no grunting AC, no airplanes (they’ve been forbidden to fly over cities since the cataclysm of WW2’s ally bombings). Only pigeons flopping about the rooftops. On Thursday mornings there is a church bell—a real one with a […]

Neshoba County Fair

They have bunnies in a cage, the bunnies are babies, palm-size. I want to bury my face in the pile of them, drown out the duck-hunting arcade, the die-with-your-head-upside-down ride, the Mississippi drawl that spikes through one hundred generators growling like Humvees. There are people who come back every year. It’s a family thing. It’s […]

8.5 Seconds of Nirvana (Walking with Thich Nhat Hanh) 

The grass is short and grey and there are bald spots everywhere. It trembles in my breath. My arms tremble in Chaturanga—still, after twenty-two years of sun salutations, each day three times I bow to kiss the ground. Twenty-two times three-hundred-and-sixty-five times three is a lot of trembling with the ground. But today is a […]