Poetry
Umbrella by the Dumpster at Night
O short-stringed kite of the underworld / O flightless black moth / / O crumpled cage of the rainless / O question mark of the masses / O hustler at doorways...
Drive
No one will find us in this city — not your valentine, / not the line of dogs he’s chained by the throat. My collar / blooms chin-high, is perfumed with lilac where you...
London Plane
That plane tree caught my eye / when I first walked here. A maple, / the sellers said, wife streaming / with allergies each spring. But it was, / no, a plane...
When I Was Good, Still
It was a time when I was good to all / the world, a time when all the world still called / me good. The smoke from Ide’s kitchen mounts / ...
Rocks Grew in the Fields
rocks grew in the fields in the spring: / this was not a wonder; ice moving in earth / clenching and releasing them, pushed them / into the light over generations; /...
Playground
All those awkward years / you didn’t realize you were training: / / Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack / clapped fast, fast, faster / to the recess bell / /...
Sighting
Rain eats the paper bag / she carries from the Chinese grocer, / bottom collapses, / strange plum-like fruit escapes, / little yellow suns rolling downhill / into the foggy harbour. /...
In My Heart Is Coltrane
In my heart is Coltrane, / precise addictions & / improvised optimism. / Our joy a lottery / anticipating / “The upswing in the industry.” / / While fundraising / for...
Its Eyes Were Black
its eyes were black its beak was black and its feathers were black . it had been dead for a / long time and i thought that by now it must be black on...