Excerpt from

After the Grand Perhaps


   After vespers, after the first snow
has fallen to its squalls, after New Wave,
after the anorexics have curled
into their geometric forms,
after the man with the apparition
in his one bad eye has done red things
behind the curtain of the lid & sleeps



Lucie Brock-Broido at The Academy of American Poets

From an interview by Carole Maso

Cats, pieces of land, strands of hair--so a title will often come long before a poem. Then, it could be an image that has nothing to do with anything, some little minor wound that is in the body, a rather unremarkable scratch to the outside world, but felt by the person who's carrying it, and then the irresistible impulse to touch that sore, you know, the tooth that hurts, the tongue--that's what begins this kind of poking, needling, a tampering, toward that incision, to peer inside. I've recently learned a wonderful religious term for this, "morose delectation."


"Snow Leopard"

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