Winter 2004 • Vol. XXVI No. 1 PoetryJanuary 1, 2004 |

The Feelers

  His plays scourge our society. A two-hour monologue literally flattened me by the end, and in fact did bring on a fever, so that I had to lie down, while others showed him out of my apartment.                  —from a confidential letter of recommendation 1. A brick is floating around the room as slowly and as proudlyas a show horse in the rodeo ring, and then———————————— it crashes into the window Jesus  everybody ducking flying shards. They look at the mess with a quiet awe (it's not their only creepy misadventure with a levitating object—the mother, the father, the boy and the girl, and this one time two wild-eyed, incredulous, shit-frightened dinner guests. They absolutely slather the brick with their stares and unasked questions: yes, but the brickin its lei of powdery glass isn't giving up any secrets. ⁂ In another place: that flat stone (where the corn gets ground) is hurtling throu

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Albert Goldbarth has been publishing collections of poetry for over four decades, two of which two have received the National Book Critics Circle Award. His latest, Selfish, was published by Graywolf Press in May 2015. He tests his patience by living in Wichita, Kansas.

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Wrist Beep

By Albert Goldbarth

  His plays scourge our society. A two-hour monologue literally flattened me by the end, and in fact did bring on a fever, so that I had to lie down, […]

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