When we came home across the hill
No leaves were fallen from the trees;
The gentle fingers of the breeze
Had torn no quivering cobweb down.

The hedgerow bloomed with flowers still,
No ...Read More

In this room, hours pass, a slight
corruption of each previous
allotted time block-and probably
confirm failure and humiliation,
which though not ideal, I accept
as historically accurate. I'm ...Read More

The mounting list of things I needed but
could not get. I tried to put on a sweater
but I was too small. The ceiling was too big.
The water wouldn't stay where I swallowed it.

I stepped into ...Read More

The son I'll never have is crossing the lawn. He is lying on an imaginary bed,
the coverlet pulled up over his knees-knees I don't dare describe.
I recoil from imagining him as meat and bone, as a mind
<...Read More

for Bill Berkson
Was it tonight's
flirtatious
remark or his
exquisite song-book
on stage?
My outside life
has turned itself in,
any opening
up at all
is no small ...Read More

Big Bend has been here, been here. Shouldn't it have a say?
Call the mountains a wall if you must, (the river has never been a wall),
leavened air soaking equally into all, could this be the home
we ache ...Read More