I see you pass on the trail where I live and I smile I recognize you since you visit often I say hello you turn as if you hear my unspoken words you are one of the few who can actually hear me when you stop to take pictures of...
Read Morethe sun melts me in Rocky Mountain spring I rush to meet you my song sings of joy to be warm at last moving freely, flowing forward when I see you I know without a doubt it is you, it’s always been you I long to stop for just a...
Read MoreWe met on the outskirts of Kalamazoo in a laundromat, hers tumbling in a dryer, mine still swirling in a washer. She had a boy with her, a runt with blond curls playing a video game on his phone. He didn’t look up when she...
Read MoreIn June of 1988, Sherry Fieldhouse called to say we would be getting a new resident, one she thought would fit well in the Tretton Place family. I went to Salem Avenue to pick up Alexandra Paredes’s chart, and to chat about her...
Read More(in memory of my father and uncles) I am seventeen and go to Spain where I stare at men with Spanish noses, Spanish chins. While Madrileños do not seem to mind or find it strange that a foreign girl would stare at them, what...
Read MoreBoccaccio hoped his brilliant book would be perused by lovely women alone in their beds. Each of his hundred tales would leap like a cat onto her coverlet, and twist its body this way and that inviting her caresses on its belly,...
Read MoreShe still hears the sound of her own name in his voice, sees someone young and slim on the sand and gravel floor of the lake, his arms held open like a door, while, through a cloud of August algae, she dog-paddles toward him,...
Read MoreA Sphinx in the museum wears the face of a woman and the body of a marble lion— You used to call me “Sphinxie” when you asked me a question, claiming I “knew everything” though I tried to tell you the ancient Sphinx only asked...
Read MoreIn the Congo important people were like ghosts: leaving notes in the hum of fans: pleas for advancement, ahems of gossip, rules of order, dire hosannas. Only the stamps are reminders that there was such a place and there were...
Read MoreMrs. Natura upstairs shushes us: it’s time: for her late husband’s favorite show: a real factory rat, he was: familiar with how blue windows cast gigantic pools of blue light: how whole shifts lined up for salt in...
Read MoreAt first men in black chase us, then we chase them, then they chase us again, then all of us chase someone no one seems to know: then the chase ends and we sit down and talk about the war that started it all, how everyone rushed...
Read MoreIt’s mostly an accumulation of guano stuck on the horizon of things and even if you know what it is and what’s been said and written about it it’s not much to look at. Its sirens are gulls and cormorants. Seals...
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