Vol 1 No 1 2007
Accidental Poetry Written by My Father
As She Lay in Her Bathtub, Holding a Flute of Wine
Autumn at the End of The Third Man
Cleaning Kill in the Kitchen at Midnight, Father Made a Good Point
Cleaning Kill in the Kitchen at Midnight,
Father Made a Good Point
He noticed me on my way to bed,
holding his violin by the neck
as if it was fresh game, and said,
“She always leaves you in autumn,”
while outside, through the window
through which Bach (cooked by bow)
would later waft, night seasoned its sky
with eighth notes in negative.
Jason Guriel