Poetry

We always wait for dusk the shallowing of the air and cool aggression of the unexpected People doom their porches like owls Lights fill the ball park In summer this is the only time of day Couples drift towards the river in the haze of each other Night’s unmade bed rolls them out again The…

Night. His arm stretches against dark and the pouch I carry without grace or mystery is lighter. We are young but each child will take more my youth than his. (Little one, you hold to me like a swimmer. I balance preciously for you.) There are no miracles in our lives. We couple sometimes and…

     Smash! All of us looked up from our roast lamb and new potatoes. Grandmother had dropped a plate. Or rather, as those of us who hadn’t been poking about in the watery creamed spinach had noticed, she had hurled her plate to the floor. Or rather, as a moment’s reflection taught us, she had in…

Children, she said, you are my children. What I mean to say is I’m going off in the woods to be alone. I want you to understand I’ve got to get away to think and touch my body with my own hands when I’m alone with no threats. You are my children and I was…

My vigils are unnecessary: you seldom stir. I am lucky to have such a child. Asleep, your breath is moist and carefully I undress you. Your flesh is precious, my only wealth. I caress you with the awe of a disciple. Your nakedness shines in the dark. Son— I am afraid of you. Growing bigger…

My mother, whom I know only from the outside, gave birth to four of us. I see my three sisters from the outside, but I cannot see myself from the outside, though I am of the four. Why is that? To stand alone in my dark store staring through my fenestras is to be singular…

A car in Seattle stops at a red light. A boy in Phoenix throws a rock through a window. A ball player kneels in the on deck circle. Any number of farmers aren’t milking cows. Somewhere a family of six is stuffed into a camper. A wave hitting any beach is followed by another. A…

Charlie Chan ponders the steamer trunk as wisps of seaweed fall from its lock . . . like the hair of a mermaid, thought his son: “Fugacious hints, pop; nothing here but cockroaches.” Detective Jones was impressed. Charlie was not. After all, Jimmy’s education cost seven murders Embarrassed, Jimmy mumbled: “Gee pop, this rash of…

I am conducting a writing workshop where I tell the students to put down in absolutely straight language something so present it flames from the page. Only the facts, I say, but literature, not journalism. Someone asks, may I work from a newsbreak at the scene on my transistor now, the police breaking down a…