September 8, 2009
THE HAZEL-ATLAS GLASS FACTORY
For years his father had made fruit jars, ink bottles, jam and pickle jars, Vaseline jars,
blue glass pitchers with the opaque profile of Shirley Temple smiling, forever, bright as tourmaline.
He would come home, sometimes, his boots trailing river mud, his hat bearing the weight of a heaven
so low it felt like the [...]
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September 6, 2009
THE MICHELIN INSPECTOR
Eats alone in the ten abandoned rooms
of the provincial hotel, the paper stars
in his guide cut out and pasted to the tenuous wallpaper
like games his children might play if he could still remember them.
The notes in his anonymous book are exact,
coded, hieroglyphs for broken sauces, overdone halibut,
ways to escape his life filed [...]
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