For Caroline Kingston You sit holding the hand of one who is, who in moments will become was. You say nothing, everything in your touch. Your hands once beckoned, coaxed breath into the world. Now you listen for breath’s...Read More
Our village escaped the war. We heard skirmishes nearby, at the edge of the woods. That was all. After each engagement, tired soldiers wafted into the square like dried leaves piling up against the steps of the church. In the...Read More
Fox’s world is a circle that spirals from dawn through the sleeping heat of the day into dusk. And when the moon lifts up light from the pond Fox journeys with her shadow through the night. She follows a compass track— she knows...Read More
Fox listens to what the creek whispers across the valley before dawn, a riddle that pulls at the threads of her fragile world the places she roams at the ragged edge of a broken circle under a sun that wrings the last drops from...Read More
Fox hears the world whispered from a shell strewn by an old sea, leans toward it listening the way dreaming folds down the hard corners, imagining to be a stream and have more than one lifetime to fail and begin again, escape...Read More
Fox tastes the first blood breathing in a fever. Ragged to the bone, winter torn on her tail Fox lopes into a hunting night along the cliff-edge burnt-out wastes, up and down ravines in and out of shadowed patches of snow. The...Read More
I was usually attentive, well mostly, though, in my opinion, that last lecture on the Mount ran a little long. No doubt about it, he was good, so very good. You couldn’t help but love him. And it was all very impressive at...Read More
Now, now, now, an insistence, I’m presumed to be wise, automatic sage, thoughtful professor, though in my mind I’m ten, a nervous, bloodied nose little boy on the playground, or on more optimistic days, seventeen, a brash young...Read More
Coincidentally, everything we knew came apart during the aftermath, the shame and anxiety, of Watergate. Dad, my little sister and I failed miserably in curbing events: bankruptcy, divorce, foreclosure, the loss of suburban...Read More
Flying over it makes no impression, an abstraction as if the atmosphere between is mountains, canyons, and savannas. Twice I confronted the Atlantic, awed by its chaotic power, its vast, terrifying breadth; the uncertainty of...Read More
The world is square Outside my screen door Two birds I can’t name Play tag chasing Touching, separating In the snap of a second I’ve re-invented my living Alone with nothing Else to do now My nose breathing The sharp dank...Read More
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