Franz Wright
Fairy Godfather to the rescue
‘Tis the season to frolic and I’m idle and sluggish. Nothing like a summer cold to sour the sunshine. And nothing like soured sunshine to call forth the de facto fairy godfather of misery, poet Franz Wright. So happened I had six Wright poems to dispose of. Leaving them around the small town in […]
MoreWhiskers on dead kittens
Beginning of November by Franz Wright The light is winter light. You’ve already felt it before you can open your eyes, and now it’s too late to prepare yourself for this gray originless sorrow that’s filling the room. It’s not winter. The light is winter light, and you’re alone. At last you get […]
MoreAnother cheerful missive from Franz Wright
Untitled by Franz Wright If I think I have problems I look in the mirror; I go to the window, or ponder the future reduced to more or less three pounds of haunted meat. And it’s never like I always said: if you don’t want something wish for it . . . Lost […]
MoreWhat’s down in the basement
The Door by Franz Wright Going to enter the aged horizontal cellar door (the threshing leaves, the greenish light of the approaching storm) you suddenly notice you’re opening the cover of an enormous book. One that’s twice as big as you are— but you know all about that: […]
MoreI saw Mommy drinking bourbon
Alcohol by Franz Wright You do look a little ill. But we can do something about that, now. Can’t we. The fact is you’re a shocking wreck. Do you hear me. You aren’t all alone. And you could use some help today, packing in the dark, boarding […]
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