Norman Dubie was born in Barre, Vermont in April 1945. His poems have appeared in many magazines including The American Poetry Review, Gulf Coast, The Paris Review, The New Yorker, Poetry, Crazyhorse, and Field. He has won the Bess Hokin Award of the Modern Poetry Association and fellowships from the Ingram Merrill Foundation, the John Simon Guggenheim Memorial Foundation, and the National […]
—for Sean On the white lacquered radio from Manilla something by Ravel that is so heavily illustrated it has made you dizzy and nauseous. The tall villain from the Kingdom has been shot through the eye and your three year-old daughter paces before the muted hotel television wringing her hands and with half-breaths, […]
He left the tent of the soup kitchen, passing a friend without speaking. A mockingbird freeing every song it had heard in those last brackish hours of evening. He lit a cigarette. Something clean like gin was what he was missing… He walked over the gravel to the new power station which at night […]
Very pragmatic closets of falling water, bath and sewer, complex dwellers eating black bread, molasses and stringy beef, eggs like fat flowers smack the backs of griddlecakes and rain is thrown against the window white and elastic with one blue gull in a loud commentary. The sea is dark and choppy. So far, out […]
For Laura Blackbirds are scribbling in the winter heat of the trees. You are accompanying reindeer over frozen water, a large cow Collapses along a rising incline of rotten ice With hundreds of animals, now both quick and shy, Pushing you over into the pine woods And then nearly into a darkening […]
It’s not the white powder cauliflower of still-distant moons. Maybe just the old salacious sump of salt pork frying with milk? It was, she thought, the modus operandi for alien abductions that became a predictable motive for verse. He says he’s going to the corner for Lucky Strikes, a quart of lemonade, and collard […]