For Anton

A beautiful poem by Donna Pucciani that expresses everything I love about Chekhov with staggering simplicity.

Donna Pucciani, Poet

I’ve always loved Chekhov,

the manic visitations, the incessant

comings and goings.

I’ve never had to abandon  villa

or watch an orchard fall to the axe.

But I have known the languid whistle

of a train in the night . . .

–excerpt from “For Anton” in Hanging Like Hope on the Equinox by Donna Pucciani (virtual artists collective, Chicago 2013). First published in Tribeca.

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The Lydia Davis Project: Extracts from a Life

(based on Lydia Davis’ short story ‘Extracts from a Life’)

The sharp bow strings
of the violin sing,
Practicing perfection.

The Lydia Davis Project: The Letter

(based on Lydia Davis’ short story ‘The Letter’)

Paper memories stream thoughts
So sweet, so tragic.
You cannot deny their power,
These utter works of magic.

A lack of taste for lips and
no chance of smell for nose.
It seems he sent a poem because
He couldn’t be fucked with prose.