1. At 2 A.M. I slip into My garage and padlock The door behind me. From their wall pegs My garden tools emit A faint green light. They comfort me; the piles Of decaying newspaper Also comfort me. I stand a long time Over my plastic herb trough. Whatever is at hand I am prepared […]
Steven Tarlow
Steven Tarlow: Teaticket Road
The retarded boy leered at us all summer from his tricycle. He wouldn’t leave us alone. We feared him for this persistence and for his soft gray teeth; we loved him for the smell he carried of summer rain. As soon as we saw him, leaves of rain seemed to spatter the ground. Their underside […]