A Childhood

The horse had been beaten and flies crawled on the beat marks.

A Childhood in Four Acts

End of October, days recede quickly into night. Leaves fall in slow motion.

A Dark Place

There was no sense in brushing off or any other civilized thing.

A Fragmented Diary in a Fragmented Time

We take our solace, in a time of malaise and mourning, in the close-at-hand.

A Kind of Thinking and Other Poems

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

A Lot Going On Up There

The hawk moves out of the way to let a little hot package of breath rise up.

A Matter of Vocabulary

“We see you tryin’ to hide. Ain’t no use tryin’ to hide in God’s House.”

A Mirror of a Mirror

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

A Personal Statement

“I’d like to talk to C about her personal statement,” Blattman said.

A Place Like This

I can see on him how things are changing for and against us.

A Saint from Texas

So that’s what I’d look like if every beauty parlor in the world shut down.

A Small Motor

A boy watching another boy lucky gets an ache. That is a small motor.

A Spinster’s Tale

When he had passed from view, I stumbled back from the window.

A Walkabout in Andrew Wyeth’s Painting and Other Poems

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

A Weary Desperado

I was convinced she’d be back in the morning, like the sun.


When he was a child, my father had a cousin who was buried by a plow.


I’ll see you on the sea, they say, but then they float past on a raft

Advice for a Young Painter

Identify where you came from, where you are, and where you wish to go.


Mostly he was in a hurry, so he’d just stick it in and away we’d go.

All My Friends Are Sad & Bright

We’ve seen the news. We know the story. How even our bodies hurt us.

All the Girls Are Fat in Heaven

When you are sixteen and sixty-five pounds, you are all shadows.

Amatoria Nervosa

It is our first time, both of ours. This sentence ends with hate myself.


If everyone’s lost on the roads, you might as well fly. Enjoy your life.

Anchor and Knife

The first time I met you I fought your father in the driveway.

And Yet Beauty Lives

We are like a village here, separated from the rest of the world.

Anemoia and Other Poems

I want to cut loose from her each wistful sigh I hear escape her lips.

Ann Beattie


Her name sprang to my lips in strange prayers and praises.

As a Girl, I’ve Been Taught

Women should hate it when people whistle at their backs as they walk past.

Astronomy 101

He knows what she’s seeking, and he knows she won’t find it.