Author Archives: Theodora Goss

Like a Caterpillar by Theodora Goss I would like to transform into a strange animal — unclassifiable, a headache for Linnaeus and his progeny. I would like to be green, furred, perhaps segmented, like a long caterpillar with rows of … Continue reading →

This Poem Is About Cake by Theodora Goss If I didn’t care what the world thought, I would eat all the cake. What cake? I don’t know, any cake. Every cake. All the cake ever. But no, I mean what … Continue reading →

Old Hungarian Women by Theodora Goss I see them sometimes, walking along the street, pulling wheeled shopping baskets behind them, or standing in the doorways of apartment houses, talking to one another. They wear scarves on their heads, or hats … Continue reading →

Portrait of a Lady by Theodora Goss She sits on a stone bench in the city park, under a bush of pink roses, probably something like Maiden’s Blush, because they have so many petals — you know the kind I … Continue reading →

The Pink Bugleweed by Theodora Goss Such an intricate construction, like the tower of Babylon, reaching to the sky, only about three inches high, rising from a glabrous rosette of leaves, its flowers pink and elegant, a ballet dancer of … Continue reading →

Planting Violets in the Rain by Theodora Goss The difference between me and a crazy old woman planting violets in the rain is — I’m not that old yet. But there I was, planting violets, while rain ran down my … Continue reading →

Persephone in Hades by Theodora Goss Poppies have never been my favorite flowers. Here they bloom all year long, if one can say a year in Hades, where no seasons pass, where summer never fades. Ironic, that — a land … Continue reading →