About Paul Hostovsky

Paul Hostovsky's poems appear and disappear simultaneously (Voila). His work has recently been sighted in places where they paid him for his trouble with his own trouble doubled, and other people's troubles thrown in, which never seem to him as great as his troubles, though he tries not to compare. He has no life, and spends it with his poems, trying to perfect their perfect disappearances, which is the working title of his new collection, which is looking for a publisher and for itself. To read more of his poems, visit his website by clicking the link above.

Fair Game

I remember a moment when I was 5 and peeing under a tree and thinking about life and about bodies– my body emptying itself under the body of that tree, the huge house of it as I looked up through the muscular branches which seemed as thick around as grown men, and I remember looking down and seeing directly across from me another body– a tiny black foraging body– I was still peeing as I followed it with my eyes … Read on…

Grace

It bothers the father more than the father can say, this sound of the teeth and tongue of the son chewing the food in the open mouth, this food that was the work of the mother sitting beside the father and beside the son, the mother between the father and the son, staring down at the food on her white plate, praying that the father does the work this time, the hard work of keeping his mouth shut about the … Read on…

O World I Cannot Hold Thee Close Enough

Sometimes I question the whole Enterprise, I mean the whole Thing, the whole Universe which is the one Verse, the one great Poem. Sometimes I think It sucks so bad it’s beyond Revision, beyond Hope. I mean after the Big Bang, I mean after the First Fuck, they should have just Flushed it down a black hole You know? I mean it Would have saved us all a lot of Time and Space. But I only Think that sometimes. Other … Read on…

Credo

I will give you your belief if you will give me my doubt. I will own there’s a god if you will own all the huddled humanity holding itself up with no help from you or your god is wholly heartbreaking. I’m willing to pray if holy shit is a good prayer if jesus christ is a good prayer if oh yeah oh yeah oh yeah is downright devotional. Dance with me for the chance, for the chance is in … Read on…

My Country Isn’t

My country isn’t my country because I’m not myself. I haven’t been myself since I don’t know when. My mother said just be yourself. My father was himself all his life and everyone loved him. But I loved the smell of the rain before the rain more than the rain itself. And I lived in the country of myself all my life. The food was bad. The language odd. The peace unsteady. So I moved to the country of I’m … Read on…

Bicycles

It’s like we’re all bicycles and we all have these handlebars and some of the handlebars and some of the seats are incredibly beautiful not to mention the way the wheels spin and the bells ring and the reflectors reflect and we can’t look at them and we can’t stop looking at them and all we really want is to get on top of them and ride off into the sunset but they say hey I’m not a bicycle okay … Read on…