Greg Correll


Greg Correll

Greg Correll
New Paltz, New York, US
September 21
Founder, Chief of Deselopy (small packages); Editor (
small packages, inc.
I write.


Greg Correll's Links

JANUARY 30, 2011 9:25PM

moebius velcronic

four floors of tired brick
above august brooklyn
on torn warm tar paper

my love under and above me
in the unconditional air of one am
my curlfinger closes


we attach
a touch the touch

slide our mesh holds fast

we part
w/… Read full post »
JANUARY 22, 2011 9:04AM

six cypress, 1961

Six cypress trees rise, eyes up to the Kansas blue, flames of muddy green. Not one is different enough to love in isolation. It is a row effect.

The trunks are not pale or dark. Non-descript, so I leave them undescribed. The leaves are ordinary. It is the effect she wanted,… Read full post »

Editor’s Pick
JANUARY 10, 2011 6:56PM

Right & Left Violence: Timeline

UPDATE, 01/11/11, 6:48 PM 
I realize this is all or nothing, that my love and compassion for all of you, even those with I whom I differ, requires me to commit to refining this. 
There are more than
2 columns to life.
In all,/… Read full post »
JANUARY 8, 2011 3:20PM

i will bleed dust

is a hashish hallucination 
of failure and disruption. 

A nightly visitation 
of patched fur 
and scarred claw, 
of radiation and nausea, 
of syrup and delay. 

Naked and scaled, 
with too many limbs, 
he wants in. 

A speechless and discourteous t/… Read full post »
JANUARY 4, 2011 1:45PM


Who today would be a biblioclast? Who would bother to kill books, when the popular text is in the corner of the living room, and the common, holy writ glows nightly, with dedicated channels for nature and science, politics and the arts, preachers and libertines, heroes and ironists – and all… Read full post »

JANUARY 2, 2011 12:13PM

the truth of death

Two men, center stage; a soft spotlight on each man. The Old Man sits at the edge of a blackened hospital bed, festooned with tubes and medical mess, all unconnected. He is surrounded by piles of paper and books. He wears filthy reading glasses. Young Man sits on a/

Read full post »
DECEMBER 26, 2010 2:30PM


I perch and peck. I write.
It's in my one remaining
gracile bone — my right index,
pressing down.

Captured, I am.
I plod out words of fortune and failure,
in artificial light, here.
Artifactual, thin on the page.

With such we will not beat as one.
I cannot best you
or skin… Read full post »

DECEMBER 23, 2010 11:23AM

A Komodo Christmas

KomodoSantaIt was the snowy Komodo who led them back to faith, and restored for them the true meaning of the season.

Everything seemed futile to the Hubblebubs that windy, desolé Christmas Eve. Dashing Tad had returned from Yale with questionable ideas about the Trinity, and went on endlessly abo/… Read full post »
DECEMBER 20, 2010 9:08AM

brand new me

I write now in a brand new way. New voice, new topics, new characters. A new, untested everything.

Except for that opening. Typical me.

And the 2nd paragraph, above? Still me, doing that brief, cart up-ended, punchy insert. Plus: no segue.

And that last paragraph, with the sly, dry, self-deflation, the… Read full post »

DECEMBER 12, 2010 8:22AM

here it is

Lately when I write for me
I write from the wrong place.
I re-state without invention.
Up the ante without raising the bar.
I avoid the work that makes me better,  
to get a cheap rise with old tricks.

Up the ante is a fool's game.
It must go to one… Read full post »

DECEMBER 6, 2010 1:13PM

Reality Shows

My father-in-law Walter was hidden during the war. He and his two brothers lived in an eight foot by ten foot crawl space under a barn. It was less than three feet high, and they lived there for almost two years. When the weather turned warm they ran under the Polish… Read full post »

NOVEMBER 23, 2010 8:22AM

go deep

Early Saturday morning at the Bistro. Five come in and sit close by; three sub-continent Indians, a Puerto Rican and a white guy. They chatter; I hear Farsi? Hindi? some English, and a surprising amount of Spanish. It unfolds: they are older SUNY students here in New Paltz, and this is… Read full post »

NOVEMBER 18, 2010 10:10PM


If I could go back, inhabit my body at five? I would convince the neighbor, teachers, sister and brothers, my parents: let me go everywhere in the library. 

I would sit in the big chair, talk with William Shawn. I would go to Princeton. I would stay supernatural and/… Read full post »
NOVEMBER 16, 2010 10:19AM

the aurora


how do we know
how to say it that way?

poets are locked in the ice
just like everyone else

our captain is mad
and the crew complains

like every other ship
on the frozen sea

we went on this expedition
without adequate supplies

just like everyone else
we scan the horizon

and count up the hardtack
and wait/… Read full post »
Editor’s Pick
NOVEMBER 13, 2010 9:03AM


At fourteen I was filthy in the alley. I missed adolescence, the tumult and the dance, and ended up in jail. I had no team, no one rooted for me. No mother, no father, no better road, no salvation bridge.

I was a runaway from a broken home. One of four, then/… Read full post »
NOVEMBER 10, 2010 9:26AM

sighs matter

My wife wants to sigh without consequences.

Well, no, let's say without repercussions. Realizing this -- observing her, thinking about How She Really Is, is something I rarely do, consciously -- and yet I am always doing it, in some pre-conscious -- or perhaps stupefied, sullen, or ruminative way --… Read full post »

OCTOBER 27, 2010 11:02AM

to wit

is what language does
when it reaches the age of consent

to wit

a diffident taras bulba
a cataract infirmity
a tarantella spume

the odd itch-to-go
when a new word
nymphs my orisons

when a phrase falls into
the home it knows

before I wrote it or thought it or saw it

to wit

a cadillac's/… Read full post »
Editor’s Pick
OCTOBER 21, 2010 8:40PM

man up

My wife waited for me, for twenty-one years after "I do".

We both realized how solid was my realignment, how complete my transformation, when a fellow said "you filthy fucking Jew", to me, a year ago. He owed me thousands of dollars, owes me still, and yet he said this terrible thing/… Read full post »
OCTOBER 18, 2010 5:45PM

the obvious


We don't think with our pancreas. Insulin is wrought, not thought, in the ductile pancreas.

Our plumb'd heart is a complex mass of muscle, with an egg-timer. We feel pangs there, seemingly, but  there's no cogitation. Just pumpity-pump.

The liver is a whopping huge gland, makes hormones/… Read full post »
OCTOBER 17, 2010 12:08PM

the talliss'd Zee


7:19 am sun
through limbs thin as fright
and the last of the leaves.

Overhead is
scrub-blue and soap-suds.
A brief understory of orange
lights the sponge-drench cumuli,
full of rain that will not fall
until they all collide at sea.

New Jersey… Read full post »
OCTOBER 6, 2010 1:06PM

For Snooki has a Book



In Heaven the angels have lost their hover,
cherubim their roseate glow.
Demi-urges all have impetus not,
for Snooki has a Book.

In Valhalla Odin has shaved his beard,
and Thor's great hammer fails.
Loki snickers, Frigg flickers,
for Snooki has a Book. 

On Olympian heights, the mu/

Read full post »
OCTOBER 1, 2010 6:14PM


It wasn't the first time she made it with her sobriety, and it wasn't the last. But it was five years clean. So Deb and I brought her two much younger sisters, and drove to DC, to see her get her coin. The girls were in upper elementary school, old enough… Read full post »

SEPTEMBER 27, 2010 1:17PM


"It's enough, isn't it? How you and me, both of us,
are sometimes right, sometimes wrong?" he says.
His pale apricot shirt catches the last of the light
in wrinkle-free ripples. Egyptian cotton,
high thread count; $200.

Yeah," I say,
"we are both sometimes right, sometimes wrong."

Sculpted firs and Seu/… Read full post »
SEPTEMBER 21, 2010 11:04PM

my twelve

1. My whole family knows I am screwed up. They love me anyway. They all know I get dislocated around birthdays and holidays. I learned two days ago how much they just incorporate this into their thinking and planning and adjusting. For me. Here's the reason behind it:

I have Pictish… Read full post »

SEPTEMBER 16, 2010 4:32PM

this guy


He's guilty. The shit he pulled is small, I guess, but he hurt someone, so he carries it close. He's alert to himself, ever since. Yeah. Alert to himself.

Most guys manage to get by, after whatever dreadful shit they do, or see, or encourage. Or do nothing about, not/… Read full post »