for Ashley Brewer A moral question for the intuition: How long to keep coming out by this pond in Oconee County, hoping the dog will show up, the dog my son lost track of here unbelieveably, she's such a whiney crybaby wanting total attention and constant contact, and what he was doing anyway with his…
The leaves are falling again and again from the spreading boxwood, yellow through the morning sun, the shaded ground just given first frost, that snows the grass and wilts the garden. They are falling by ones and ones, and by clutches, and the woodshed, roofed, nearly parallel to the ground, that, summer, tools elbowed in…
I. All that forever is scattered from a man. Home no more at twilight to set his sandals Side by side on the hearth and hug his children. Forever changes everything: He is folded into another being, a tree perhaps. The atoms that were his mind far-sprinkled In space, his life a banquet of snow…
On the rough diamond, the hand-cut field below the dog lot and barn, we rehearsed the strict technique of bunting. I watched from the infield, the mound, the backstop as your left hand climbed the bat, your legs and shoulders squared toward the pitcher. You could drop it like a seed down either base line….
Did I not, from larva, grow a shell, then crawl from it, skinless, until like the cicada I left my theologies and causes clasped to trees — so why have my maps and chronicles brought me again to a green lathe? Do I still wear the same threaded syntax? My eyes still turn from blue…
ONE Mary Ashlyn looked out the long narrow window and was surprised to see long narrow needles of brilliant rain falling wildly across her October garden. Brilliant long needles of flashing cruel rain, too bright, the sun was indeed still shining, and when Mary Ashlyn looked quickly at the sky, it was smooth and blue,…
This is the future, what we feared. It could have been worse. For instance, the woman you spied on in your first madness, you a boy of seventeen, is gone, but walk down any street and look for that golden incandescence in some window, see a woman there combing her hair and dreaming of a…
From here you can see the herds come down from the mountain Like loose rock they pile up at the river Then break loose The first one Then the others Whole herds plunge through the water You can see the men gathered in the pass with their spears to watch Already they are waiting thousands…
From her place at the window she watched him, hatless, coatless, lead the mule to the wagon beneath an evenly gray sky. An empty pipe clamped between his teeth, he hitched the mule, and after she came out of the house, having kissed the children goodbye, he helped her up onto the wagon. She took…
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