FALL 2009

Tony Quagliano


all the form
was the ruin
of the poem


in the fever and stunning
solitude in that tiny
hut on Hiva Oa
his last picture
showed Breton Snow
I'm an intimate of all fall down,
this drug regarding solitude warms me like a sudden sun
not altogether healthy
for the silent scream that's in it,
every pore a vacuum as
my flesh is swept by solar winds.

The curse of one's most private mood
turns elliptical and clean
and turns again, bursting speeding and renewed
generating poem, or dance,
or quiet rioting
with staring at the wall.


Ah, to be East
of the Apple
where the Islands
are Long
and life
(as everywhere)
is short

Tony Quagliano (1941-2007) has various works including poems in New York Quarterly, Harvard Review, Rolling Stone, New Directions, Yankee, Spring: The Journal of the E.E. Cummings Society and The Pushcart Prize, as well as in numerous Hawai‘i literary journals. His books of poetry include: Language Drawn and Quartered, Fierce Meadows, Snail Mail Poems and pictographs. He edited the special Bukowski issue of Small Press Review which appeared in 1973. He was the editor of KAIMANA–The Journal of the Hawai‘i Literary Arts Council.



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