One Whenever I find myself In a strange city I imagine I have found My new home And must find A way To live here Twenty-Four My life shrinks I will share All with you Forty-Eight This girl snagged The handsomer twin You once coveted They are living Now in Paris Where she suffers A treatment nearly … Continue reading Five poems by Dan O’Brien
The War Reporter Paul Watson and the Room across the Hall It’s like they’re still in college. Mattresses on the floor. Empty soda bottles filled with water. Chicken bones and French fry stubs in clamshell cardboard. Toilet rolls along electric radiators. One laptop like a fire in the cave mouth at night. Cords suckling at working sockets. A tissue box for unmentionables. Mugs and Moleskine … Continue reading ‘The War Reporter Paul Watson and the Room across the Hall’ by Dan O’Brien
The War Reporter Paul Watson Lost His Camera Vacationing in Cape Town, longing to purge yourself with Stellenbosch and lobster. Waves lash the scapular limestone. Unshouldering your camera on your molt of clothes you dip into the bay while it sways till you might let yourself get carried away. Onshore a baboon. A dog’s trot. His ponytail -like tail sweeping the coral wash. Fumbling … Continue reading Three poems by Dan O’Brien
