Tag Archives: Nonfiction

when lost abroad

Posted on July 3, 2021 by istsfor manity

Travel Advice for Young Chauvinists (redux) (First, you’ll find intercalated pustules of censer smoke ringed by ferrules of frankincense in your heart. They were placed there by us. Do not panic.) Travel. And when lost abroad … You’ll find mussels … Continue reading →

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detune détente detonate

Posted on June 2, 2021 by istsfor manity

dada death ddedebtd.e.a. detoxdetunedétentedetonatedetonatordetonation deordinationdeontologicaldeoxygenateddepalatalizationdepartmentalizedespiritualization dada dada dada dadadeath “Dada is like your hopes: nothinglike your paradise: nothinglike your idols: nothinglike your heroes: nothinglike your artists: nothinglike your religions: nothing” — Francis Picabia / Manifeste Cannibale Dada

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a good waitron

Posted on May 27, 2021 by istsfor manity

Waiting Room Sitting in the radiology waiting room—double masked— with a handful of others assiduously avoiding eye contact. Staring into their phone screens, another mumbling through her mask something from the grocery list … make sure you don’t forget … … Continue reading →

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nude boogie woogie

Posted on March 16, 2021 by istsfor manity

That Ability to Coexist (After Jessica Bruder’s Nomadland) “The last free place in America is a parking spot.” Sell-o-rama! Are you fascinated by the blurring Of class lines? You need not file yellowed papers In triplicate. You don’t need. We … Continue reading →

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is a canker

Posted on February 18, 2021 by istsfor manity

Toadeater Madness Stop thinking out of your flask, and drink-in some sense for a change. Guttural palavering bridges no connection another caring human can manage. What you say? Lickspittles to madness. Stop posturing. Your people are burning toddler’s wooden blocks … Continue reading →

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dig a pony

Posted on February 17, 2021 by istsfor manity

Two of Us I just dug a pony… and dig about for blue plastic soldiers. I’m digging up around my backyard and my neighbor comes outside to see what I’m doing. We live in a duplex. I in the south … Continue reading →

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a faded revolution

Posted on February 6, 2021 by istsfor manity

Lost I am lost… … like the grandfather who lost his leg to photochemical exposures —  cursing at a faded revolution. … like the grandmother who lost her fight with (de) mentia and her superego — cursing at her nurse about … Continue reading →

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disappear in plain sight

Posted on February 3, 2021 by istsfor manity

Identity Piece in Reconstruction Now you see me now you don’t. I’m lost to myself. Even I can’t see me. Where do I come from? We came from Cuba. We came from Spain. And I can’t track my family back … Continue reading →

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keeping him dead

Posted on January 26, 2021 by istsfor manity

Gun That Weighed A Ton (haiku tercets) Once, my father’s gun was proferred open-handed as proof of his love. He sat naked, wet, at the edge of the bed, said, “I didn’t, for you.” I felt horrible that I was … Continue reading →

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of acid words

Posted on January 23, 2021 by istsfor manity

maelstrom underneath the bed away from the maelstrom of acid words and sharp elbows it became clear my parents had no idea “Our quiet rage gives us wings, the possibility to negotiate the gears winding backwards, uniting all time.” —Patti … Continue reading →

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