About Alison Leslie Gold

Posts by Alison Leslie Gold:


plenty of dead ground strenuous burlesque the Japanese Consul’s car patches of white and mauve sleep in the shade a shade less repellent a dreadful smile only a toothbrush and a typewriter without leaders, without pay


A leopard coughs

no one knows a young man in shorts the fashion alters once more a sense of plenty and well-being extra money to spend clutching hands soft-footed servants the leopard coughs in the darkness savagery and determination true excitement dies away a blue haze gathers folding over on itself in the shallows


Lips like living fire

the trees grew without abandonment with faded finery, with powder and paint alarming sympathy in fear of ridicule who chance threw in his path be circumscribed   unwinking, straight eyes whose face was concealed a frivolous curiosity at length everything was ready more gray than black perfumes, the mirrors, the pentagrams   hideous tenderness round(…)


Written in mustard

an old double bill written in mustard from one horizon to another uncarpeted wood life appeared to be going on instead of talking like a sock drawer a shadow in the background once there had been no lesbians whatever the rules the old rules fend off bearded men in hallways duties discharged somehow protected  (…)


Fools Fold

At first the newly gathered, random phrases, sentences, words grafted into lists from (gorgeously read) talking books were christened Pocket Fractals.  Fractals as in ‘ … partly random or chaotic phenomena such as crystal growth, fluid turbulence, and galaxy formation. …’ to be stuffed (for safekeeping) deep inside one’s mental pocket. Shortly after beginning to(…)


Wrong about Mussolini

lamps on at four the peppery smell wrong about Mussolini no one could say Irena was tired, her eyesight was poor that was all anyone asked dark mirrors a short foreign door two croissants glassed-in frayed rope on his shoulders greasy and soft like brown paper parcels tied with strings victims, flotsam scented sheers, deep(…)


Salt Pacific

constant and uncertain the blue is arrogant on such a sea as this the salt Pacific a note infinitely drawn out a figure of fun the two men were not made to get on a vulgar cunning commonplace and sorted gross sensual old man a gift of repartee, coarse and obvious watch the missionaries suspiciously(…)


Winter of 1852

where leather smells where cloth is beaten, where vine leaves tremble spit and dice acid shade as only the dumb know all grades of jealousy, anger and despair fleas of Florence that single circle in regular brick bluebottles by day just as of old nothing had happened by the hour in dazzling shards an Egyptian(…)