Paul Hostovsky

  • Apr. 25th, 2017 at 9:55 PM
beth_shulman: (book: meg powers)
Poem on the Fridge

The refrigerator is the highest honor
a poem can aspire to. The ultimate
publication. As close to food as words
can come. And this refrigerator poem
is honored to be here beneath its own
refrigerator magnet, which feels like a medal
pinned to its lapel. Stop here a moment
and listen to the poem humming to itself,
like a refrigerator itself, the song in its head
full of crisp, perishable notes that wither in air,
the words to the song lined up here like
a dispensary full of indispensable details:
a jar of corrugated green pickles, an array
of headless shrimp, fiery maraschino cherries,
a fruit salad, veggie platter, assortments of
cheeses and chilled French wines, a pink
bottle of amoxicillin: the poem is infectious.
It's having a party. The music, the revelry,
is seeping through this white door.

Paul Hostovsky

  • Jun. 16th, 2013 at 1:42 PM
beth_shulman: (stock: open book rose)
Dear Truth

I do not love you.
I am running away
with my beloved
illusions. The sweet
nothings. Nothing
is what it seems.
I love what seems.
I am crazy in love with
the painfully obvious
transparent surface.
I am simply hungry.
You keep the house
and everything in it.
I am taking the dog.
And the windows.

Paul Hostovsky

  • Apr. 1st, 2012 at 12:38 AM
beth_shulman: (Default)
You’d think we’d have figured it out by now,
what to do with all the pain, what to make of it,
this natural resource everywhere abundantly
fallow, in every corner of the world, every
corner of the body; you’d think by now we’d
have invented a formula for converting it into
energy or food, or cancelling it out completely,
dividing it by itself or the farthest star or else some
denominator we have yet to imagine; build it up
into something or break it down into nothing, pulverize
or patent it, put it in bottles, barrels, tanks, silos full
of what motivates us, kills us, brings us forth.

(Pain)

Paul Hostovsky

  • Feb. 1st, 2011 at 11:30 PM
beth_shulman: (book: meg powers)
Bear with me I
want to tell you
something about
happiness
it's hard to get at
but the thing is
I wasn't looking
I was looking
somewhere else
when my son found it
in the fruit section )

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