Poetry – Page 28 – Michigan Quarterly Review

Poetry

The Loneliness of Animals

The Loneliness of Animals I don’t think I know what it feels like I know I don’t            to drag one’s self so   slowly “like a zombie” down a cracked hard, rock-cut creek bed     in Illinois   to be lifted    still churning one’s legs to be the subject of such testing:   to be found […]

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The Loneliness of Animals I don’t think I know what it feels like I know I don’t            to drag one’s self so   slowly “like a zombie” down a cracked hard, rock-cut creek bed     in Illinois   to be lifted    still churning one’s legs to be the subject of such testing:   to be found

Blue fuzzy image

Loafing

The flesh rises in still early morning like dough that wants to make bread. And I am the one to feel it passing through me into you rising easy as saying I know moves quickly into I knew it—or like after your saying I said oh you ohing me on to say oh my sadness   so you could

Loafing Read More »

The flesh rises in still early morning like dough that wants to make bread. And I am the one to feel it passing through me into you rising easy as saying I know moves quickly into I knew it—or like after your saying I said oh you ohing me on to say oh my sadness   so you could

Kitchen

From Sanjukta Bandyopadhyay’s “Kitchen,” ” After every night, every morning is the same: each human being eats-drinks-brushes his teeth, just like a human being; I don’t have any illusions.”

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From Sanjukta Bandyopadhyay’s “Kitchen,” ” After every night, every morning is the same: each human being eats-drinks-brushes his teeth, just like a human being; I don’t have any illusions.”

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