Tomorrow I eat nothing but bean soup, or else nothing but Raisin Bran. Yes, tomorrow I shall begin my great Raisin Bran diet. No more chips for this guy, no more French fries with mayonnaise, or frozen wedding cake. Tomorrow, I eat only things I can pick up with my thumbs, only what I can […]
It must have been the night I pulled at your breasts till they were long enough to fit into our pillowcases because that morning I woke to find the bed sheet had come off the corners, drawing us closer. You said, without looking at me, I wish it was always blue light […]
As my son watches the fish thwack against the side of the spackle bucket, I search my tool box for needle-nose pliers: A Phillips-head, an orange box cutter, razorblades packed in cardboard, and a broken measuring tape pile like ancient monument stones on the dock. Gills bleeding heavily, the crappie lifts easily from the bucket. […]
Frank Giampietro talks about the genesis of his poem “Angry with You at Bower’s Beach.”
Frank Giampietro recommends to poets for Fishouse visitors to check out, April Ossmann and Terrance Hayes.
Frank Giampietro talks about how he determines the form a poem will take.