Bruce Bond – Shame
Shame I go the way that Providence dictates, with the assurance of a sleepwalker. And sleep replied, if you want me, I will be in the light of the freezer with a fifth of scotch and a revolver. Which is when he resolved to take a season in the Alps, close his eyes to watch […]
Bruce Bond – Lute
Lute This lamb, that marble child, whatever you desire, the stonecutter will take your order. He will make you something to remember, said my mother, and then she disappeared. Swallow the small things, she would say, but everything is small tonight, every star on the hood of the curtained limousine. If I could deepen the […]
Bruce Bond – Lunette 4
Lunette 4 Even the dead feel incomplete and drift through the garden floor like a feeling of displacement or the scent of rain. You know that smell, the way a body knows to end the dream and drink. It knows itself as mostly water and therefore passing through. The breath of millions polishes the wall […]
Bruce Bond’s patmos, Reviewed by David E. Poston
Bruce Bond patmos University of Massachusetts Press Reviewer: David E. Poston Section III of patmos, Bruce Bond’s new book-length poetic sequence, begins: I was just another creature crawling from the mausoleum, and I thought, so this is it, the place in the final chapter where I’m judged for my cruelties, blunders, failures of attention, and […]
Bruce Bond – Cathedral
Cathedral For three days a woman paints her mother in the chill of the funeral parlor, the doll of the mother’s body open-jawed in the long astonishment that overcomes the dying. God is in the small stroke, she says, the unction of the oil, the aromatic solvent that taints the air. She lays the death-mask […]
