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Toward You 18 Jun 2013 | 10:59 pm
While you were away, I walked along a path cut short by a sharp, thorny bush. Several swollen red berries set back in the curved branches as if into eye sockets. The red-eyed creature it became wa...
Universal Principles 5 Jun 2013 | 12:36 am
I want to believe we’re all in it together. But this is America. Here, we’re ready to light each other’s hair on fire. If the world were on fire, at least we’d all be in it together, except f...
Discharge 28 May 2013 | 10:50 pm
I In the tight-knit dark, in a foreign tongue, beside the shower of perfectly synchronized sprinklers elegantly cultivating their concrete corners, II the orderly signed me out. Sunlight then sh...
A Conservatory for Wolves 21 May 2013 | 10:03 pm
Hélène Grimaud transforms Chopin into wild percussive hammers, the piano her anvil, my feminine Hephaestus. When not playing, she maintains a conservatory for wolves. With Alawa and Zephyr in my p...
Central Anatolia 15 May 2013 | 07:57 pm
We drove the honey road, a seller at each curve with dark jars on shelves aslant, dark sticky jars with lids screwed down, an afterthought. The same six jars, same three shelves for miles the same...
Little Seismic 24 Apr 2013 | 07:31 pm
I was there. The fan trembled. The plant trembled. The rented room became one faint undulation. Great Aunt Mary said, “I think we should we should go.” Outside, the sun reigned. The sand was as ...
Elegy for an Approaching End 10 Apr 2013 | 02:33 am
We found ourselves in the kitchen again. Slant-hipped, elbow bent, your hands resting on the counter. Even though you didn’t say it, I knew you were thinking of Japan. The water between us alread...
This Body of Water Is Not Meant to Move 3 Apr 2013 | 08:13 pm
The lake freezes, the lake closes its eyes and a minor paralysis comes upon us. From the knees, I stand in landfall, landfill. Above, vultures continue their business in the heavens. Toads wipe th...
The Perfectionist 26 Mar 2013 | 08:13 pm
When Plato lay sick beside a window overlooking the hush of the Aegean, he thought, somewhere lies a great shadow to end all shadows, a paradigm of ruin as the one dead thing that is no thing in ...
The Poet Hears the Voice of the War Reporter 22 Mar 2013 | 05:14 am
In Princeton the leaves change like bells. Squirrels pass untouchable girls. Stalking the greens at night. Worth something. Running in lightning storms, peeling paint from balusters along the Vict...
