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Old Stories and Other Paintings

Eros, myth, life, and literature in brilliant paintings by Lincoln Perry.

Old-Time Religion

I light fires in the dark wake of space where you have tarried. Or died.

On Good Resolutions

For my part, I do not want a Happy Christmas: I want a Merry Christmas.

On Nancy Hale’s “Flotsam”

This is a crafty story and things are not what they seem to be.

On Seeing Damien Hirst’s “Kingdom of the Father”

Small valleys and veins give way to a lifted ridge like a rib or an arm bone.

On the Difficulty of Discerning Shapes in the Distance

Warm breath in my ear mouthing a name; rivulet folded back in water.

On the Horizon

& I said let there be dark pouring from your mouth at daybreak

On to Baghdad

He could see I was American, but I thought he was unlikely to harm me.

One

Laurie Saurborn Young

One Pound Sterling

The hut was cluttered with the skulls and bones of small animals.

Only When

As a shadow I arouse you will you believe the truth of my mouth.

Or Else

“Jesus Christ,” Dad said, after the counselor spelled it out for him.

Ordinary Heaven

I have many dreams, I say. In my dreams I am better than myself.

Orisha Poems

The woman who raised the woman who raised me was a mistress.

Outsider

The Bengalis negotiate their space with corrupt politicians and landsharks.

Owakare: The Great Parting

The stories of terror continued well after the tsunami had passed.

Pageantry, Intrigue, Contemplation, Mystery

When we wake up, the five windows and the French door are full of light.

Paintings of Flowers by Morris Graves

For years I thought this light was love, or God, but now I know it’s fear.

Paradise

Instead of stained glass, give us an oil slick on the New Jersey turnpike.

Pardoning

My daughter swallows arrows of sunlight on her way to the grave.

Patient Zero

The beasts and fowl and all manner of slithery thing can love like us.

Pensées

The last thing one settles in writing a book is what one should put in first.

Perichoresis

This belief. This clinging-to. Vanity. Like painting the wind’s back.

Pe‘ahi Poems

I see the garden far away in itself reflected in the polished spade.

Pietà

The church was clearly the work of a madman driven crazy by the wind.

Pimp

In my eyes is the flame of the adolescent he wants to hire.

Plain Lucky

I received a surprise invitation to a tryout camp at Ebbets Field.

Plot with the Horses in My Heart/with the Birds in My Mouth

I didn’t want to start a poem with night where there should be a name.

Poem

Loving you is every bit as fine as coming over a hill into the sun.

Pond of the False Prophet

Under Saint Peter’s Gate, I put good foot after bad, and derided, I chased.