Similarly, perhaps it never did snow that August in Vermont; perhaps there never were flurries in the night wind, and maybe no one else felt the ground hardening and summer already dead even as we pretended to bask in it, but that was how it felt to me, and it might as well have snowed, could have snowed, did snow.
Joan Didion
WELCOME TO ROOM 006
DEAD SUMMERS, PLACES TO DROWN
He is both famous and infamous for writing poems that deal frankly with the trappings of wealth—including his penchant for hand-built Ducati motorcycles, sex with much younger women, and expensive hotels.
Frederick Seidel
He does what every exciting poet must do: avoid writing what everyone thinks of as ‘poetry.’
Frederick Seidel
In a field / I am the absence / of field. / This is / always the case. / Wherever I am / I am what is missing.
Keeping Things Whole
He crashed every A List party for a year by pretending to be Kay Meehan’s son, a masquerade that ended when a hostess told him “Your mother’s here” and led him by the hand to the dowager—Woman, behold thy son—underneath a darkening conviction that all, if not wrong, was not right.
Pretty Convincing
It’s a little like cheating. Your head resting on his shoulder, your breath moving up his neck. Your hands along her spine. Her hips unfolding like a cotton napkin.
Slowdance
Say we never get to see it: bright
future, stuck like a bum star, never
coming close, never dazzling.
The Conditional
A few saints or angels performing miracles in laundromats or beauty parlors
Walking Through Clear Water in a Pool Painted Black
I’m starting to imagine a road to his castle lit by radiant heads of blonds on poles as streetlamps for the gods, flickering on at twilight as I used to do in the years when I crashed more parties and acted more outrageously and met more beauties and made more enemies than ever before or ever again.
Pretty Convincing
The river is turning into / a place to drown. / the road lay down / infant of the car. / everything in hell was / talking English long ago. / I mean English. / I mean fruit bowl. / I mean upper crust. I mean, really!
Area Code 212
We re-enact the rituals, and our faces, like smoky icons in a certain light, seem to learn nothing but understand all.
Pretty Convincing
I’ve hurt you. I’ve loved you. I’ve mowed the front yard.
Slowdance
Slip into your loafers and walk with me like lovers do.
Here Comes the Rain Again
I took a trip back to Baltimore to pack some clothes and find a temporary home for my pet monkey.
Walking Through Clear Water in a Pool Painted Black
And as for Gloria…that girl…born of a lightbulb it seemed, had died when she had gotten silicone injections for her little tits. It had spread all over her body, making tiny lumps arise on every inch of her skin, until finally it entered her pulmonary arteries and the aorta and she died of a silicone heart.
Walking Through Clear Water in a Pool Painted Black
