Tag Archives: Jeremy Nathan Marks
A memory forms by Jeremy Nathan Marks
Day begins behind closed lids; a red streak is all that I see. A maple at my window parted momentarily; the room is aureate. Every leaf has gone; no reflections. The forest canopy on the way to school is a ladder of shadows; there are lit wings circling when I look up. The floor has … Continue reading »
We meet after dark – Jeremy Nathan Marks
We meet after dark, your car beside mine in a gravel bed off of the river road. The stream is so quiet, far shallower than before when we came upon this place deep in the summer. I move into your front seat, the cassette deck is hissing. I hear the tin whine of old magnetic … Continue reading »
September 2001, Worcester, Massachusetts by Jeremy Nathan Marks
This is not a poem it is a memory. The glass covered sidewalks the trash the prostitutes in boarded up corners by fronts or vacants the bars on the windows a man walking naked at night through public housing. It is the day before 9/11 and a young man I do not know catches up … Continue reading »
