I worry the hammer writing its bite in a script of bruises doesn’t distinguish between fiction and prayer. I don’t ask for much. Sunlight more like bed than whip of…
Winter’s heart is tired, the center of the season something that beats only when the wind knocks against it the way a window cracks when birds mistake its shine for…
I was not appointed anything so linear as a form like yours, nothing so costly as your eyes—mine are little departures, stained where yours had been basins, washed over white.…
Always the twilight: a burning car crash. Always the car crash towed away by the moon. Always the stars gather and grind their way to some rhythm we think we…
Scattered peels of shine that lie on glassy water, shiver out of reach. Blue light filters neighbourhood rooms as you walk the dog, shadows lamppost to lamppost. Napped dark against…
I Among them, There is nothing, Collected, Five mango trees Two julie One East Indian A number 11 A hairy Their building A soliloquy on ancestry Their home slotted above…
Open your eyes and gather yourself. Understand your surroundings. Witness the beauty of what’s been created and understand the depth of the Aspen roots, constantly moving further into the heart…
It’s not just that feeling of escaping something that opens up your chest, or the closure that lends rhythm to seasons of life: after spring, the long slow breath. After…
This is the road that folds the latitude of night into brave passages through fields of stirring, the keen awareness of hurtling through time, or whatever stands in for time…
I know the river ran red until the sea, where the wild throat of a sky washed to the reaches before the magnet dark of eve. In this wavelength, this…
We are pushing sixty. Like snails, when we bloom out of ourselves to spy the garden through our blindness we are dancing slowly, alert to the flaming intentions of the…
Harvard College Reunion, Class of 1958 Adrift between symposia and seminars, a drizzle of reverie on Bow Street, aimless nostalgia graying in droplets of fog. At the corner of Arrow…
The blackbirds and the mourning doves that haunt the backyard feeder have me thinking need, the burning fuse that drives us all. And even though right now it’s wan and…
There is within a longing for the deep hours. Ones where entire days disappear in a blink and worlds are discovered, word by word. Those simmering moments when day paints…
The night before, Lauren had stayed at Timothy’s apartment despite an agreement they’d reached after a few weeks’ negotiation (with sullenness, with wine, with tears) that “they were on hold,”…
