Author: Thomas Lux

As you descend, slowly, falling faster past You this snow, Ghostly, some flakes bio- Luminescent (you plunge, And this lit […]

gnawing through a shinbone, a high howl Inside of which a bloody, slashed-by-growls note Is heard, unlike that Sound, and […]

Early germ Warfare. The dead Hurled this way look like wheels In the sky. Look: there goes Larry the Shoemaker, […]

The artisans of this room, who designed the lamp base (a huge red slug with a hole Where its heart […]

each day mowed And mowed his lawn, his dry quarter acre, The machine slicing a wisp From each blade’s tip. […]

A man risked his life to write the words. A man hung upside down (an idiot friend Holding his legs?) […]

One sweet pound of filet mignon Sizzles on the roadside. Let’s say a hundred yards below The buzzard. The buzzard […]

Shelves and stacks and shelves of skulls, a Dewey Decimal number inked on each unfurrowed forehead. Here’s a skull Who, […]

More like a vault you pull the handle out And on the shelves: not a lot, And what there is […]

How, in the first place, did They get torn-pulled down hard Too many times: to hide a blow, Or sex, […]

Your baby grows a tooth, then two, And four, and five, then she wants some meat Directly from the bone. […]

What I love about this little leaning mark Is how it divides Without divisiveness. The left Or bottom side prying […]

follows the river as it bends Along the valley floor, Going the way it must. Where water goes, so goes […]

One wave falling forward meets another wave falling Forward. Well-water, Hand-hauled, mineral, cool, could be A kiss, or pastures Fiery […]

They are, the surfaces, gorgeous: a master Pastry chef at work here, the dips and whorls, The wrist-twist Squeezes of […]