Fall 2012 Archives - Turtle Point Press Magazine / TPPM

Louis Aragon

Poem to Cry In Ruins

Translated by Jeff Clark

Let’s spit you and I let’s spit
on what we used to love
on what the two of us used to love

David Trinidad

EVERY NIGHT, BYRON!

SATURDAY

Tonight Ira went
to a dinner party
at Jenifer Berman's.
She works at BOMB.
I met her once: lost
it when I smelled her

Richard Howard

Excerpt from Talking Cures, New Poems by Richard Howard

Two weeks ago I obtained your product dE-BARK
and attempted to obey the obscure
and for the most part inscrutable instructions ...

Hal Draper

MS FND IN A LBRY: or, The Day Civilization Collapsed

From: Report of the Commander, Seventh Expeditionary Force, Andromedan Paleo-anthropological Mission . . . What puzzled our research teams was the suddenness of collapse, and the speed of reversion to barbarism, in this multi-galactic ...

Princess Marthe Bibesco

To Antoine Bibesco

Do you remember, Antoine, the spring morning when we argued about the Russian soul? We strolled up and down the Champs-Elysees, you and Georges and I, without bothering to notice ...

Poem to Cry In Ruins

Translated by Jeff Clark

Let’s spit you and I let’s spit
on what we used to love
on what the two of us used to love

EVERY NIGHT, BYRON!

SATURDAY

Tonight Ira went
to a dinner party
at Jenifer Berman's.
She works at BOMB.
I met her once: lost
it when I smelled her

Excerpt from Talking Cures, New Poems by Richard Howard

Two weeks ago I obtained your product dE-BARK
and attempted to obey the obscure
and for the most part inscrutable instructions ...

MS FND IN A LBRY: or, The Day Civilization Collapsed

To Antoine Bibesco

Do you remember, Antoine, the spring morning when we argued about the Russian soul? We strolled up and down the Champs-Elysees, you and Georges and I, without bothering to notice ...

At Huysmans’

One evening the Abbe V—— of Saint-Sulpice took me to see Huysmans. His apartment near the Bon Marche is small but light. From the windows you see convent gardens and ...

Excerpt from ‘Creaturely and Other Essays’

It's a bright morning in early May. I leash Chester, our border collie, and head south on Louisiana Avenue, the street empty of other pedestrians. We take a desultory pace, like an old couple out for a stroll. Leash looped around my forearm, I look up, watching for birds, while Chester sticks to the lawn strip with his head down ...