Earth Took of Earth.
A lion that, ravaged by lust, ravages a cub to luck its mother again snaps, in his jaws, the cub's neck. Just like that. The world surrenders. Grasses seed, peaches rot, lovers gorge, islands rumble under, a young rabbi bleeds, a woman yawns in a brothel, a mess of blood and semen, a white flag, babies and ripe tomatoes in late October.
JESSE NATHAN was born in Berkeley but grew up on a farm in Kansas. His writing has appeared in jubilat, The Nation, Gigantic, Adbusters, and many other publications. He's an editor at McSweeney's, and he co-edits the McSweeney's Poetry Series with Dominic Luxford. He's currently working on a PhD in literature at Stanford, and he lives south of San Francisco.
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|Title Annotation:||three poems|
|Publication:||The American Poetry Review|
|Date:||Jan 1, 2012|
|Previous Article:||On the Production of Distance.|
|Next Article:||Women and Nature.|