Seth Abramson Poems

She came to see him in the safehouse
to interface
without biography or autobiography.
I am, she told him, the only one here
...

Come see the woodpile behind the cannery.
Come through the wall
to where the wood was chopped
and the difficult wood was hewed.
There is a short history of commotion here,
...

1981,
&  for three days in Nebraska
penny loafers are the talk, the thirties sensation
all over again in one-light towns.
...

Here we are
in our doughboys and camos, our doughty frocks
with drips of bitter on the sleeve, our passions revving
their pulp to pittance at a gas station
in the city that never peeps—
...

Twelve dollars sixty cents,
& the fact that there is no blood no storm
can't wash into dirt, that the time for these words
...