Short Works for the Peripatetic Web Surfer
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by Paul Hostovsky
Remember this poem? Its simple
rooms? Its window full of trees? The white
gable which you loved about this poem,
how its lone triangle seemed to encompass
all humanity? And the spiky yellow sun
exploding somewhere outside this poem?
Of course you do. In fact you’re reciting it
right now, standing on one foot in a room
of a different poem.
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Paul Hostovsky has been featured on Poetry Daily, Verse Daily, and The Writer’s Almanac. His poems have won a Pushcart Prize, the Muriel Craft Bailey Award from The Comstock Review, and chapbook contests from Grayson Books, Riverstone Press, and The Frank Cat Press. His first full-length collection, Bending the Notes, is forthcoming from Main Street Rag. To [...]
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by Paul Hostovsky
It’s easy to love them,
the shapes of those lives,
the little huddled triangles
holding each other up
on the way into the city,
or the ones in the country
leaning only on themselves
and a silo, head in an elbow
on a hill. How beautiful
the detached view, how forgivable
all the little murders, driving by at 70,
looking into the lowered eyes [...]
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by Paul Hostovsky
Fold this poem in half
now fold it in half again,
and again. Notice how,
if you did it right, it fits
on an eighth of the page,
the way the moon fits
in the back-seat window
of the car traveling through
the night, the road unfolding
like a story from childhood,
the white space surrounding the poem
collapsed like time, into this moment
reflected [...]
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