Unlikely 2.0


   Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, and the children of men, as a whole, do not experience it... Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing. —Helen Keller


Join our mailing list!


Google Custom Search


Recent Articles:

The End of Unlikely 2.0

A Sardine on Vacation, Episode Sixty-Nine: Recommendations
Whispers of Arias: Music by Stephen Mead and Kevin MacLeod
Phil Rockstroh and Angela Tyler-Rockstroh document Occupy Wall Street with an essay and a 20-minute documentary
Linh Dinh finds meaning at Occupy Wall Street
Yacov Ben-Efrat chronicles the Tel Aviv protests
Robert Levin seeks the why behind proselytizing
Two Down (Europe, USA), One to Go (China): The Chinese Ponzi Scheme and the Oncoming Global Depression by Sam Vaknin
Three Poems by KJ
Three Poems by Sheri L. Wright
Three Poems by John Grochalski
Three Poems by Luke Skoza
Three Poems by Wendy Taylor Carlisle
Two Poems by Jonathan Penton
Playdate: Poetry by AE Reiff
The Rin Tin Jubilee: Poetry by Luke Marinac
Autobiography: A spoken-word film and poem by Kristina Marshall
What You Lose When You're Weak, You Take Back When You're Strong: Fiction by Jon Alan Carroll
My Sorrows and Disorders of the Psychiatric Kind: Fiction by George Sparling
Kara: Fiction by Iman Carol Fears
Living Two Wars: Creative Non-Fiction by Rita Bozi
Magalíluismil: Fiction by Paul Kavanagh
Peg's Cat: Fiction by Heidi Bell
Four Photographs by Sheri L. Wright
Five Images by Fabio Sassi
Six Sculptures by Stephen Harrison
In you, everything sank: A short film by Rebecca Freeman and Adam Fine


Bookmarks:

Goodreads
del.icio.us



Print  this article


Three Poems by Lyn Lifshin

When, at the Ballet Barre, the Mad Girl Realizes

the only relief,
that she could
end it all, this
going thru the
motions. She is
sick of fantasy
being more real
than her life.
On the metro,
only gray. In
ballet, the gray
leaks in thru
her skin, braids
with a litany
of dreads. She
can't remember
when she stopped
looking ahead
but only backward




Ballroom, Reading Room

Bring a book, better
make it two. Or a whole
encyclopedia. When you
see the guys in class, a
book's like a fan shy
Victorians hid behind.
If you don't want your
spine ripped off like some
one dumping a truck load
of books at a landfill.
Bring a book: too many
of the new dancers are
that rough in tango. I
used to think it odd, one
woman with her nose
in a book but now I sit
down when the hulk,
the motorcycle (or lets
call him falling off his
motorcycle) man moves
toward me. And if the
stench of garlic isn't for
you, bring a book as
a shield to escape to
the bench or safer go in
another room, say the
kitchen. Behind a book
you look serious, not
just trying to escape
the ones who wrench
your arm out of a socket,
turn toes blood. A book
is a noli me tangere
sign, do not touch me.
When the best ones
aren't dancing, believe
me, take a book




It Was Like

someone who throws
away silver coins,
of her favorite horse
because when her
lover left, betrayed
her, she felt if she
couldn't have them,
what he gave her,
no one else could.
She said when she
threw them out she
felt those coins,
inspiring reverence,
each of Secretariat's
wins crossing the
finish line, were a
betrayal of all that
inspired reverence
as he had and if she
could not have him
she would have no
thing he gave her,
became a betrayer
herself


E-mail this article

Lyn LifshinLyn Lifshin's Another Woman Who Looks Like Me was published by Black Sparrow in 2006 and selected for the 2007 Paterson Award for Literary Excellence. Also out in 2006 was The Licorice Daughter: My Year with Ruffian from Texas Review Press. Lifshin's recent books include Before It's Light (Black Sparrow, 2000), Cold Comfort (Black Sparrow, 1997), In Mirrors (Presa Press), Upstate: An Unfinished Story (Foot Hills) and The Daughter I Don't Have (Plan B Press). Her poems have appeared in most literary and poetry magazines and she is the subject of a film, Lyn Lifshin: Not Made of Glass, from Women Make Movies. Her web site is www.lynlifshin.com.


Comments

No comments yet
*Name:
Email:
Notify me about new comments on this page
Hide my email
*Text:
 
Powered by Scriptsmill Comments Script