“Of course I couldn’t keep up with Anatoli/but that didn’t keep him from refilling my shot glass./In between the endless shots of vodka/I swallowed too many pieces of salted Black Sea fish.” A new poem by Dan Grossman.
“After swimming up / from the sea with the earth in his arms, Varaha / (a pure blueblood deus ex machina) went on / to mold the mountains and shape the continents.” Three new poems by Dan Grossman.
Withholding My friend has this prescription for bachelorhood bliss: Withdraw your penis from your lover’s vagina just as she’s about to come. This lets her know who’s in control. Hint: it’s not her. I was contemplating my friend’s advice when I went to buy you flowers, and my credit card was declined. And I thought,…
“during her surgery / I toured the apartment building / where I spent my first five years.” A new poem by Dan Grossman.
“When I was ten years old, I used to dream that I was Luke Skywalker, traveling through Hyperspace to different worlds.” Now the worlds come to Dan Grossman
“It’s hard to picture those who write verses to you, / O bulbous moon rising over Atacama, / taking electric cables / to the testicles of their political opponents.” A new poem by Dan Grossman.
“The old earth seems solid enough / even though the continental plates / might fall to the kitchen floor / at any time and shatter” A new poem by Dan Grossman>