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I keep trying to convince myself that I want to talk to you. I cannot listen to music. The harmony carries a sympathy I cannot live with. The clock ticks on the bookshelf and the refrigerator hums. Sometimes the fish Read more…


Sparrow

It is because of my past that when the sparrow crashes into my window, drops, stunned on to the ledge, I cannot look away. Its gray-brown beak leans against the glass, feathered sides heaving, eyes on me. Its shaking breath Read more…


[They say all that’s left is ashes]

They say all that’s left is ashes,   if I were to stir them, all I’d find is wood charred black and useless.   They say beneath was only sand anyway,   the branches green, too fresh for burning, always Read more…


Nesting

It’s not how the ducks fly at you, your heart beating with their wings as they try to escape. It’s little by little each time they stare at you, you watch them, try to figure them out keep trying because Read more…


Family Photograph, 2009

i   She sees the green of the ultrasound on the fridge: alien head on garbled body, says, Take a look at that peanut.     ii   We called him Peanut as my mother’s stomach began to round, bet Read more…


Why I Love Judith Roney’s “Bird in a Brick House”

I always love a good metaphor — carefully drawn images that I can read and reread and find deeper and deeper meaning. Judith Roney uses metaphor beautifully in “Bird in a Brick House,” and then emotionally the poem takes me Read more…


Directions

Tell me of all the houses you have built. – Brent Downes   The first thing you should know is to make everything packable.  Crochet it, whittle, make it into a tune – so long as you can carry it.  Read more…


Missing: You

This is why I read Le Petit Prince so very long ago: So I can wait as Fox for Little Prince, though you have already tamed me, and I, you. You must not tell me I am wrong. C’est le Read more…


Why I Love Lisa Olstein’s “That Magnificent Part the Chorus Does About Tragedy”

I’m a sucker for prose poems. Lisa Olstein’s poem, “That Magnificent Part the Chorus Does About Tragedy,” is dreamlike, forcing us to consider why seemingly unrelated metaphors and images follow one after another. The prose poem seems perfectly suited to Read more…


When to Stop

The snow is only to your knees and the path is shoveled.   Inside your cabin, the heater fan whirrs as it spreads its warmth.   You can cry if you want, but there’s no need.  No need   to Read more…