A Dagger of Sunlight Lies across His Bed

He sits hiked up, naked to the waist, like a stone in the bedclothes.

A Few Delicate Needles

It’s so delicate, the light. And there’s so little of it. The dark is huge.

A Happy Birthday

I wanted to ride this day down into night, to smooth the unreadable page.

A Kind of Thinking and Other Poems

Life, then, was song and purple font, imagining in words a future.

A Last Set

She had been sleeping more and more as the tour went on.

A Late Valentine

Now we have the shells, the casings, emptied and scattered, strewn

A Life with Bears

I want to focus on bears. On knowing them, and on what they need.

A Matter of Appeal

Felicia knew why he was there. He was waiting. Waiting for her.

A Matter of Necessity

The survival of our world depends upon the cultivation of better language.

A Mirror of a Mirror

Have two children to keep around the house in case one goes missing.

A Palazzo in Florence

In Florence I gained a sense of how I might want to spend my life.

A Practical Mom

She can go to Bible study every Sunday and swear she’s still not convinced.

A Real Nice Baby and Other Poems

Royal baby George is tucked in the crook of his mother’s elbow.

A Short Short Theory

Fiction, no matter how short or long, is the art form of human yearning.

A Sleigh Ride

Some inner voice told her that now or never her fate would be decided.

A Small Blip on an Eternal Timeline

I grabbed him by the face and told him life only comes to a person once.

A Theory and Other Poems

I have, in the long solitude of my body, asked for something else.

A Trailer by the River

The thought of entertaining our relatives filled me with horror.

A Walkabout in Andrew Wyeth’s Painting and Other Poems

My bike, my skinny body, my pent breath was thrown to the grass.

A Winter Walk

After breakfast I set out to see what my wild neighbors have been up to.

A. Roolette? A. Roolette?

She remembers that golden ocean, the promise of a whole new land.

A. Roolette? A. Roolette?

She remembers that golden ocean, the promise of a whole new land.


There was something in her voice, some awful, enduring fire.

Adam’s Curse

To articulate sweet sounds together is to work harder than all these.

Aedh Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams.


L comes over & we walk turns around the block—this is what we’re allowed.

After Nazim Hikmet’s “Things I Didn’t Know I Loved”

I never knew that the song of the first summer cicadas could ease my hips

Agents: The Business of Writing

Art touches the soul and moves life in ways that commerce cannot. E. L. Doctorow noted that writers seem to get business ideas almost right.

Air and Space

You walk and the world bends toward you like leaves waiting for rain.


I’m mourning in the armpits of a lover we once called a family friend.