poetry

  These are the things that do tend towards miniaturization— shore towns, ocean liners, fitful poetry, extreme weather, city of Cambridge, the mild. All of a summer day from Magazine Beach, you see the sky is divided in two, and … Read More

  The road from Louisburgh through an intersection toward Killeen, got pokier and stonier with wreckage and walls and boatloads of early, Mweelrea Mountains looming in fog, the ocean thrown from the west and from the south. This was moving … Read More

    MEANWHILE, THE EYE RUNS AHEAD, THE MIND WANDERS   This embroidery was made by a young American woman named Hannah Otis.   Embroidered clouds,   It depicts our own Boston Common with Beacon Hill in the background.   … Read More

  I know what happens in the end. I’ve seen the movie many times. The young son makes it. The father, he dies   strutting cheerfully for his son in front of the Nazi’s rifle. But let me delay   … Read More

  Once I was air- borne, brief gust, thrown from the hot white metal of a car—   do I have to go? I asked the paramedic. He buckled me to the gurney, raised me   into the ambulance. The … Read More

  The dogs began to bark. The dogs were almost always barking. Whenever someone would approach the house or just walk by, the dogs would bark. But C and S could tell that this barking was different. They could hear … Read More

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  Not in the goodbye so much itself as in the greeting Of goodbye, the real letting go, as you say (hello) Rests not in the heat of the moment: When one Decompensates—-when one truly loses it—-it is never In … Read More

  I was surprised the mattress shop sold deathbeds, I hadn’t thought of it as a niche, but when I lay down upon it— Swan’s down, classical ticking, wire coiled and wrapped in ash— I felt so at home and … Read More

You drank in the King of Prussia most nights, aging just as you’d intended—surreptitiously, with wrinkles in your lungs. And you still wore that red ribbon round your neck— kittenish, a dare. You sang when it suited— your voice a … Read More

  When it hurled itself against the spinning wheel of a car we hid our eyes, but the crippled pigeon lived and alighted at the curb’s gray foot, looking up. Tires roaring behind rumpled its feathers. You wanted to leave … Read More