“Cimabue was Giotto’s master,” lingered for decades. What we recall — gauzed snippets of time strung together with random pieces of dialogue. We build from what we think we remember and then swear it’s all true. The tower we build grows,defying gravity,shaking as it ascends.Our response:Dramamine.— R JAMES SENNETT JR R James Sennett Jr lives, … Continue reading The Answer To The Art History Question
Today, in Nsukka, a songbird posed alone / behind a dark tunnel / fanning its wings / a sign to show, heaven is a home without an end. & nothing is too small for troubled oceans, not to swallow. Some days, I’d watch the kids roll out in their rainbow coats. Rucksacks, & streams of … Continue reading Imagination Flowers
The clouds are rubbing the moon’s bald head and wiping his tears as they pass, and the darkness all around us is haunted by the ghosts of hobos and highway men, just as the fossils of ancient, prehistoric sharks and whales vibrate andcall to us across time fromtheir resting places, and a black cat boneis … Continue reading Cop Cars on the Distant Horizon
The Ferrari California parked outside The porn shop on Broadway Is red like the roof of my mouth Poked by the jagged corner of tortilla chip Red like the cartoon heart Glistening and throbbing To the techno bass beat Drop top drop panties drop acid Washed jeans in the parking lotHeat shimming over concreteRed like … Continue reading Cupid’s Outlet/Rainbow Video
We destroy ourselves as ants build a colony as birds build strong nests We enjoy ourselves as winter presses onward absurd awaiting We depress ourselves watching the clocks on the walls seeing not learningfrom the evergreensand the redwoods I’ve heard of and know still stand talland mystery itselfand her great three-lettered name as our books … Continue reading I Bet One of Us Is Manic
The day the fox staggered into the barn my father didn’t own a gun, his whole life, a pacifist, with no desire to harm, or hunt, or defend with force. At the time, I saw this as a failure of character, as a listless boat floating without hope of shore, hated his inability to kill, … Continue reading The Politics of Violence
It was an evening out of Goya – foreground disarray, distant hills, Coal tar sky, the whole thing soundproof and sullen as a grease trap. I can’t say if I imagined the needles snapped off in my wrist. Tomas slashed away with a dull switchblade like a schoolboy Made to do lines, then explored the … Continue reading Sonnet in Relief
To say I am sun obsessed and weary would be like saying I am a pharaoh who has crawled from the necropolis with a mouthful of hunger. I am the one who is afraid, biting the reins, crossing the desert before the wind takes my pale voices back to the womb. Say you cup your … Continue reading Queen of the Night (Night Blooming Cereus)
If you look closely, there in the narrows of Penn Station is a ghost whittling his tune in the gutter-water. He fiddles his song in the graffiti, if you stand long enough to listen, whistling along wires of yellow construction tape. In the silence of strangers trapped in separate oblivions, the ghost pauses and smiles, … Continue reading E Train (8 Avenue Local)
Here are Hidden Peak Press' 2024 Pushcart Prize nominees.