Poetry

Phoenix, September 1977

Standing naked in the front yard of my girlfriend’s house, 3:00 a.m. Sunday morning, a small, delicious defiance, air smelling clean, temperature in the 70s, breeze like cashmere across my skin, each pore open to ...

The Drink

Nobody asked me during the lengthy questioning around the whole blown-up thing. If they had, would I have been the one who cracked and spilled everything I knew? The truth as I remember it: that ...

A Page from the Apocrypha

So God throws Adam and Eve out of paradise but they don’t slink away wailing and ashamed like the characters in Italian frescoes. Instead, Adam turns and says, “Ah, You big lug. I’ve been eighty-sixed ...

On Faith

How do people stay true to each other? When I think of my parents all those years in the unmade bed of their marriage, not ever longing for anything else — or: no, they must ...

Why He Was There

Much as he left it when he went from us Here was the room again where he had been So long that something of him should be seen, Or felt — and so it was. ...

Do Not Weep, Maiden, for War Is Kind

Do not weep, maiden, for war is kind. Because your lover threw wild hands toward the sky And the affrighted steed ran on alone, Do not weep. War is kind. Hoarse, booming drums of the ...

1962 Karmann Ghia

The damn thing tried to kill me and make it look like an accident. It was a sinister dark red, the color you’d get if you added black ink to blood. I bought it for ...

At the Home of the Destitute Dying, Calcutta

Inside, we meet a young physician, an American from Minnesota, a year out of medical school. When he first came to Mother Teresa’s he always wore his surgical mask, always treated his patients with the ...

Little Goat

Last night, driving home from rehearsal, tender from singing Bach, Bleib Bei Uns, “Stay with Us, for the Evening is Coming and the Day Draws to an End,” turning into Oak Street, I saw in ...

This Close

In the room where we lie, light stains the drawn shades yellow. We sweat and pull at each other, climb with our fingers the slippery ladders of rib. Wherever our bodies touch, the flesh comes ...

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