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GlennPhillips: April 2012
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Friday, April 6, 2012. Central Park, New York. The prancing horses of Central park. Are bridled and broken like. The immigrant men who drive them. Their shoes , appropriate for the late. Century, are anachronistic on. Their dress, uncomfortable and unclean, have too many bells and buckles. They are scenery along with the blooming crab apple,. The windblown lake, the British tourists. They are dead, you know? The geese and their plastic feathers? He came here to be model. Of friends at the beach or a.
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GlennPhillips: September 2012
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Tuesday, September 25, 2012. Eternity is not grains of sand. Ce n’est pas. Leaves or ants or hydrogen atoms. It is the unquantifiable quantity. L’asymtote de nos âmes. The ways that water can pass. Les chemins des vents a travers le forêt. She is a piece of water. An unwashed apple, a. Blue and spinning star,. A ribbon tied without. Hands, a book with only one word. She is a candle, an origami. Flame, all white and red and. Heavy bread, burned. She is a cup of sand,. A balloon, sewn into the stitch.
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GlennPhillips: Developmental Mathematics
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Thursday, January 17, 2013. I teach developmental mathematics. In the 1990s we would have called it. Remedial. In the 1790s we would. Have called it cutting edge. My students are the leftover students. I teach the prom queens who no longer. I teach the tattooed. I teach the veterans. Who hold their pencils like detonators. My students are non-traditional students,. Students who have nine to fives,. Students who leave my evening class. And stock the local Wal-Mart until. Was done alongside puberty. What t...
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GlennPhillips: Our Fathers
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Tuesday, January 29, 2013. We are not our fathers. With their apple throats. We are not our fathers. With their thick tongues. We are not the young. Men they were,. The sons of Vietanm. We are not their. Looking up as Americans. We are not the social. We are not reckless. We are not our fathers,. But we are their shadows,. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). Robert Milton Sea II. View my complete profile.
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GlennPhillips: December 2011
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Friday, December 30, 2011. Atlanta on a Thursday. I don't recognize the language. It falls from his tongue like. Gumballs or pebbles. The words. Are round and smooth and. Collect at his feet. He is unusually tall, and his. Ankle high boots undermine. He is Starbucks and twelve. We're both heading to Cincinnati. My transfer has been cancelled. His, I'm sure, is right on time. There are rabbits in downtown Dusseldorf,. Small coveys that pour out. Onto well-manicured parks after the. Gates have been locked.
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GlennPhillips: September 2013
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Friday, September 20, 2013. They told me to prepare. My heart; so, I bought. A store brand marinade. And 7 bell peppers. I made an incision just beneath. The ribcage, reached into. My summer garden of a chest. And plucked it like an heirloom tomato. I set it on the drain board. And covered it with cumin. I sliced it into 14, quarter inch slices. I put them in a bowl,. Added my father’s Polish herbs. And soaked them in the marinade. My heart is now in the fridge. Beside a jug of milk. Spoke secret words of.
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GlennPhillips: Diana Nyad
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Thursday, September 12, 2013. She drank water no tongue. Has touched, above orcas. And eyeless lobsters. She. Saw sun sink in water that. Was warm then cold, that. Opened like a grave, that. Spoke secret words of. Regret and retreat. She held. Two countries in white. Hands She pushed and pulled. Her way to Florida. Her heart. Is full of jellyfish, her skin. A soft legume. When I am. Old and grey and barely. Awake I hope I have the. Strength to say "The sea. Waits for me." I hope I. Have the strength to be.
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GlennPhillips: January 2013
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Tuesday, January 29, 2013. We are not our fathers. With their apple throats. We are not our fathers. With their thick tongues. We are not the young. Men they were,. The sons of Vietanm. We are not their. Looking up as Americans. We are not the social. We are not reckless. We are not our fathers,. But we are their shadows,. Thursday, January 17, 2013. I teach developmental mathematics. In the 1990s we would have called it. Remedial. In the 1790s we would. Have called it cutting edge. I teach the tattooed.
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GlennPhillips: January 2012
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Wednesday, January 25, 2012. As professors, we feel older than most people our age. We say that we choose our profession because it keeps us young, but the liver spots, the failing eyes, and our sore backs are constant reminders that though we may feel it, we are, in fact, not young. We are distinguished, aged, experienced, and a slew of other euphemisms that belie our envious souls. Today one of my students turned 19. A book I never read during those formative years. A story I cannot put down. So I said...
