poems by Mitchell Grabois
Trog 1. I was poisoned in 2009 I cannot be poisoned again Poison comes in many forms Some of it is white powder Some of it blows in the wind Some is traceable, some not
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Trog 1. I was poisoned in 2009 I cannot be poisoned again Poison comes in many forms Some of it is white powder Some of it blows in the wind Some is traceable, some not
Inferno I thought I’d read the Inferno aloud to my wife while we were house-sitting in a drafty old farmhouse in Umbria but after a while Hell got boring It didn’t take very long
by Mitchell Grabois The sensei had given her a Buddha name: Moon Pillow, which I thought suited her pretty good, though I can’t explain why, but it had something to do with Cat Steven’s song, “Moon Shadow.” If I ever lose my mouth all my teeth go north and south If I ever lose my […]
by Mitchell Grabois 1. After Tu and I made love, I fell asleep and dreamt I was running along the edge of a swamp. I knew I should be in the trees but there I was, exposed, sloshing through mud and water. Leeches sucked the flesh of my legs chest neck. They were my confederates, […]
by Mitchell Grabois 1. Painted white with blue stripes, Stars of David on its sides, the bus left Tel Aviv. I was already asleep, my serotonin-deprived brain anaesthetized with hashish and codeine. Time/miles passed. The bus hit a pothole large enough to shelter a terrorist on the lam, and my lolling head hit the […]
by Mitchell Grabois When, onstage, the Who’s Peter Townshend began smashing his guitar, he was looking for a sound that summed up existential truth. When Toto Fez, leader of the Ceades of Distruction, a local Chippahitchka band, followed suit, he was thinking of splitting wood and of his time in prison.
by Mitchell Grabois Blood 1. Her mother raised her Catholic but somewhere along the way between inspecting U.S. Navy aircraft (her softness inside their hardness) and teaching Montessori students (her hardness inside their softness) Latilda joined a cult