Spring 1964 • Vol. XXVI No. 2 Poetry |

Bones and Lavish

Und lassen dich, zu keinem ganz gehörend.—Rilke Five nights before we quit you caterwauled, "Take me!" then sank your hips and beat the air for air. The echo swells in me sting-quick and stays: love's after-flashes: chronic pain. I pleaded your desertion. You abstained. The bar judged us divided; we shook free and courted single beds to double us in sleep. I live on bones and lavish. Life is cheap. Life is cheap in D.F. "Give me beans," a dark-shawled woman squalls. The Thin Coyote market brims. Dogs and boys skirt baskets full of color; smells compete. My Spanish wife's neat waist flows like her voice. Up and down the aisles we buy to hoard our Rubáiyát at home. Bread, wine, and cheese bring us together every other meal. In Mexico all the world takes whatever it can steal.I spot a double image, real as life: Picasso paints one woman in her moods; Nerval writes one mood's many women. I split the picture: ends, odd bits of both kaleidoscope. This is my day. I dance, shiftin

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A Dead Girl

By John Taylor

Und lassen dich, zu keinem ganz gehörend.—Rilke Five nights before we quit you caterwauled, "Take me!" then sank your hips and beat the air for air. The echo swells in […]

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