Author: admin

Doubt bleeds black everywhere . . . viscous . . . when the Moon has hidden itself. As you do. Despair oozes. Bad history makes for an oily night.

Waking up to the dark, leaving home in the dark, This long Northern Winter encloses us. An eight-sided wild Western coffin. J.T. Whitehead has published 300 poems in over 100 literary journals, including The Lilliput Review,...

I am not a crook, declared the one; I am a good person, tweeted the other.

There it was: a lonely autumn leaf. I wouldn’t know which kind, definitely not fern, but in a fading shade of fern green. Half covered by the brown of an insolent mud-slush, she was clamping to the rain-soaked plastic bag...

In our absent minds we pick at our brown spots, raised into the third dimension, his on his left temple, mine high on my left cheekbone, under my eye, like a beauty mark. It’s one thing to notice the aches, bumps, diminishments...

Thick as a vat this tree trunk stands And though we cannot see, its root dig firm into the ground Branches stretch out to the sky The trunk snagged in between; I’ve never touched the tip Had only come to the very bottom and...

I see them still, their faces and heads moving above hurrying shoulders of shoppers and dog walkers along Madison, Fifth or Lexington, they appear only in crowded places at stoplights, cross- walks, never looking at me for long,...

Mary and Joseph with earth brown skin, straight black hair, look holy and patient. Three wise men with complexions of white and brown and black kneel on the cold stable floor, bear gifts. Guinea pigs huddle in attention. I...

Now I’m terrified, but when I hurled my shoe at that pig-guard, Schillinger—infamous for strangling prisoners—then grabbed his Luger and fired into his fat belly, I could’ve flapped my arms and flown back to Brazil, escaped this...

My nom de guerre, so the Germans wouldn’t discover my real name and murder my family; alas it didn’t work: dear Mama, gentle Papa, and little Gabriel slaughtered at that abattoir, Auschwitz. Besides, no greater hero than...

Friends visiting from Portland, had purchased tickets for us all for the National Holocaust Memorial Museum. The weight of death so heavy it made laughable my grief for Jerry Garcia, who’d died two days earlier, on the fortieth...