Unholy Sonnet 13 By Mark Jarman - Giggle Poems
Drunk on the Umbrian hills at dusk and drunk On one pink cloud that stood beside the moon, Drunk on the moon, a marble smile, and drunk, Two young Ame...
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Unholy Sonnet 11 By Mark Jarman - Giggle Poems
Half asleep in prayer I said the right thing And felt a sudden pleasure come into The room or my own body.
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Unholy Sonnet 4 By Mark Jarman - Giggle Poems
Amazing to believe that nothingness??? Surrounds us with delight and lets us be,??? And that the meekness of nonentity,??? Despite the friction of the...
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A.M. Fog By Mark Jarman - Giggle Poems
It felt like tears, like wetted bedsheets, And suspended in it like a medicine In vapor was the ocean’s presence, ghost Of deep water and the bite of ...
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Dressing My Daughters By Mark Jarman - Giggle Poems
The mass of stuff That makes the Sunday frocks collapses In my hands and finds its shape, only because They understand the drape of it— These skinny k...
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The Children By Mark Jarman - Giggle Poems
The children are hiding among the raspberry canes. We lie in bed at night, thinking about The future, always the future, always forgetting That it wil...
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Morningside Heights, July By William Matthews - Giggle Poems
A man and a woman on a bench: she tells him he must be psychic, for how else could he sense, even before she knew, that she’d need to call it off? A b...
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Mingus in Diaspora By William Matthews - Giggle Poems
You have to pick up The Bass, as Mingus called his, with audible capitals, and think of the slow years the wood spent as a tree, which might well have...
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Weltende Variation #I By Bill Knott - Giggle Poems
The CIA and the KGB exchange Christmas cards A blade snaps in two during an autopsy The bouquet Bluebeard gave his first date reblooms Many protest th...
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The Closet By Bill Knott - Giggle Poems
The closet has been cleaned out Full-flush as surgeries where the hangers could be Amiable scalpels though they just as well would be Themselves, in b...
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The Golden Age By Bill Knott - Giggle Poems
is thought to be a confession, won by endless torture, but which our interrogators must hate to record—all those old code names, dates, the standard n...
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The Consolations of Sociobiology By Bill Knott - Giggle Poems
Stigmata stalagmite I sat at a drive-in and watched the stars Through a straw while the Coke in my lap went Waterier and waterier.
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