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Phyllis Stowell


Releasing the Spirit

Winter 2002 | Poetry

Sunken, shadowy hollows, facial muscle slack as incapacity—  not the hard power of a death mask, rather the face itself,  a slightly parted mouth, her teeth pressed against her lip. Absent  the furrows, scowl, fleeting wistful glan [...]


When lovers watch the unlovable guy transforming until the gal chooses him, part of the miracle is Eros growing up the rest is their pleasure, watching. Some nights pleasure is so dressed up in grey silk, so French, she seems an evil flower. After d [...]

Heart Attack

As if a hearse stood, engine running, in front of the house and won't be sent away. Months, I'm told, wait wait until like St. Denis I can move with higher thought or manage Graham's "Lament," flexed muscle, back-bent wrist the entire body distorted [...]