Search Results for wind

...John Fenlon Hogan © 2014 John Fenlon Hogan 2014 John Fenlon Hogan Reiterating the Wind Everything I say I say because the world is not the way I want it. That I’m still speaking reminds me of how ineffective I am, how full of nonsense and nausea...

...- letting. But before this, I ask you to imagine what it must have been like for us, for me, when that coward El Gallo turned away from the river —​its dark surface churning in those evil winds —​and said, speaking from the corner of his mouth, “Camilo’s shrunken bones will never rise from...

...Christos Kalli Christos Kalli Elegy for My Grandmother’s Hip My Grandmother’s hip has broken            by the wind, again. Like rainwater on the ground, she has pooled the pavement of the Cypriot stonehouse she stoned herself. Next to her black hair, white tulips everywhere, pushed...

... of pins to knock out as the choker tightened and the crane took up the weight. Nobody calculated the wind-factor. About to pop pins, when the beam leaned out over the river. A goner, I thought, drowning in the pitch- black, or flattened on rocks first...

... could, coming to a small ledge where he stood, eyes horizon- glazed and chest oratorial. Not our leader. Our leader speaks from the anvil’s shade, his back pressed up against its slow bulk. Here he is protected from the hungry, whipping wind. minnesota review 87 (2016) DOI 10.1215/00265667...

... with their nanny, Meredith. Won't be back for three days. Your gloves have gone mucky inside from sweat. A sparrow skips across the lawn. The moment you know: the wind lifts suddenly, sparkling the wind chime hung over the porch. The backdoor opens, and Mrs. Peterson steps out of the house, her thighs rigid...

... ballooning in her chest. Mine, I knew, a terrible dream from long ago, when Ma and I made that trip across Holland on our bicycles. Every day we rode toward the coast; every night I rewound our progress in my dream and watched us go backward. In this dream the wind pushed us hard, and we couldn t resist...

... expects no explosion. Out past the end of the last paragraph, such a punctual occurrence would be moot. The wind is stagnant, but still wind. Night sleeps on the horizon. Oil and water are finally one. All fuses are lit, but none are burning. Timers...

... and bent and when we measured our steps past a town, even in wind the bells swayed toneless and tongueless, clappers unscrewed and melted down, wrapped around powder, shipped out in boxes, the bells bound open as dresses wind-filled then frozen. What is courage? Had we...

... and property, we were exhausted and immediately retired. On awaking around noon the next day, we immediately began to look at the news reports on television. Surprisingly, the news was fairly opti- mistic. The reports stated that there was much wind damage and minor flooding in New Orleans, but overall...

... senseless when he realized his impenetrable armor, his firm grip on a sword, the wind off the ocean murmuring his name —​ none of it, in time, would save him. So with no way out of his predicament, he retreated. As if to say I will take no more part in it. As if to say, I was not born. If it’s...

.... Such beautiful children, my mother said, by way of condemnation. A 1960s scandal.   Who can say what goes on behind closed doors? This woman abandoned the view from Coit Tower, winding streets, fog pressing down on the bay...

... THEY ATTEMPT A FEW STEPS OF A QUADRILLE. PROTEUS. Viking. Wind. North or northeast 3 to 5, becoming variable 4 later, then southwest 4 to 6 later. Sea State. Moderate, occasionally rough at first. Weather. Wintry showers. Visibility. Good, occasionally poor.24 ALICE. (To Leibniz, as they dance.) You must...

... (and Bergson’s) point: If a sentient being is like a wind harp, and if, moreover, sensation and think- ing are ontologically similar to one another, then we can invert the image. Wind harps are like sentient beings. We are approaching territory into which the new philosophy...

... a perfect line across the horizon in all directions but behind. The wind here roams in ways new to me. You walk into the kitchen, shrugging out of your work shirt, and I stand in the living room looking around at all the unpacked boxes shoved against the wall, stacked beside the TV. I hear you...

... of silence, like a pinwheel whose edges spin with wind. Sexual definition. No entrance but into the seams. The sentence as pinata. A childhood drama—to strike blind and then the candy, tiny wooden animals, gold foiled coins, falling through the lifting, the effort, and the children groping with glee...

... of microprocessors com- puting in parallel. In other words, the Anthropocene is not so much a historical event as it is the product of a computer simulation, which deconstructs the globe into billions of data points for temperature, elevation, wind speed, solar intensity, vegetation, and as many more...

.... “I know you like him,” Jennie said, after Effie lowered the bottle. Effie wiped her mouth. “Oh?” “You’re not the only one. A lot of girls do. Tons.” I felt waterlogged, too warm. I moved onto a submerged rock, and felt the wind on my...

... barbed wire. Maybe some old bamboo fishing poles, tie some ripped scarves to the top, so they can catch the wind and decorate my yard with whipping fabric, wind-dancing blues and muddy purples. They can hang limp during rain showers, dry hard in the sun. Grow green spots of mold. Start...

... mother is alive. Don t ask. When her monologue is interrupted by the sudden picking up of wind, watch how her hair blows around her face. Wonder what would happen if you gathered some of the strands and tucked them behind her ear. Wonder what it would be like to kiss her. Then wonder if this moment...