It covers everything, a glossy January rind along tires. Sunny days have brought it out, burned away the ice, left the calcified tidelines to gloat on the hoods and sun-warm trunks of cars queued up along the curb, parking close as they can get to each other, to the raised sidewalk that’s buried beneath the
- American Revolution
- Carpe Diem
- For Mom
- For Teens
- High School
- Love, Contemporary
- New Year's
- New York City
- Old Age
Ander Monson is the author of The Available World: Poems (Sarabande Books, 2010).
by this poet
Now I know that everything is a body, so even the snow and the sand and the blood rivered down in the snow, and snowed on again so it's buried is a body. All things are bodies in photos— detail of the left side of a breast and the arm's pit—detail of the sled slumbered under by the storm's leavings. Detail
"Carrie says I should make my connections into a poem." —Dennis Etzel Jr.
Sawed you there, through you there, girl whom I name Carrie, shine of sun on bonnet-handle at that Walgreens on 28th. A Friday night. It looked like you came straight from fighting something that looked like