Frank X. Gaspar

Frank X. Gaspar is an American poet, novelist, and professor of Portuguese descent. His most recent novel is Stealing Fatima (Counterpoint press, December, 2009). His collection of poetry, Night of a Thousand Blossoms (Alice James Books, 2004) was one of twelve books honored as the “Best Poetry of 2004” by Library Journal. His most recent collection of poems is Late Rapturous, from Autumn House Press.

Fall 1988

Tía Joanna

By Frank Gaspar

You are in God and God is in you like the fish is in the sea and the sea is in the fish.                   SAINT BERNADETTE When she enters the church, […]

Summer 1986

Catechism

By Frank Gaspar

We recite our way to heaven,obedience, faith, grace, the wordsfrom the blue book in the priest’s hands,our heads turning in the spring lightfrom his grave eyes to the windows whereyellow […]

Summer 1986

August

By Frank Gaspar

I wanted to show her the dawncoming up over Truro, I wantedthe sky pulled downlike crepe after a dance.She wanted me to be Odysseusand tell her stories of that warI […]

Winter 1999

The Tree

By Frank X. Gaspar

Then God said to me, stop feeling sorry for yourself—isn’t it enough that I love you? but I was angry and sleepy in that indistinct way when dreams linger like […]

Summer 1986

Passing

By Frank Gaspar

Today on my front lawnfour young girls stop without seeing meto shout and playin some small interruptionof their passing down the street.Two of them already have small breastsbeneath their shirts, […]

Fall 1988

Golden Colt Ranch

By Frank Gaspar

We never got as far as Mexico, our dream of saffron cliffs and maguey running to the blue Gulf, but here in the chaparral hills over our arid valley there […]

Summer 1986

Leaving Pico

By Frank Gaspar

We heard Pico from the kitchenwhere the living sat rollingcigarettes in their thick fingers,their bottles of Narragansettin front of them on the tablewhere they sat and said verde,green, like the […]

Spring 1995

Kapital

By Frank Gaspar

Hooking boxes of dogfish across the packinghouse floor, take the fat grease pencil you use to mark 36/BOS or 42/NY on the split-pine boxlids and draw a circle around the […]

Spring 1995

Small Prayer for the World without Mercy on Us

By Frank Gaspar

        —Thou hast not given water to the weary to drink,          and thou hast withholden bread from the hungry.                         Job 22:7, KJV Then they found themselves in the usual corridors, the […]

Spring 1995

Whiskey

By Frank Gaspar

Which is foolish to praise for it took my grandfather’s sopping life and wrung it out like the old checkered shirt he always wore, wool sluffed down to a sheen […]

Winter 1996

Confessions

By Frank Gaspar

I      Voice over:    Then to Carthage I came.        Shadows on the flat water        and towers majestic in their        darkened shoulders which        slouched coldly from the light …        New voice […]