On:

The meadow is a bloomwith spring colorsbirds singas if the newnesshas never happened before.A small child discovers grass.I discover joywatching him in the open fieldat the early beginning of his life–laughing as if this could go on forever.The sun sets in all its beauty,at the horizon,as if pulling an eyelidoverContinue Reading

On:

“You gotta sneak up on a crow,” the old man said. “They’s real smart. Crows are.”“Yes, sir,” the boy whispered and crouched low as they crept toward the cornfield. Although his grandfather was a tall man, he was bent in places where he had the “arthur-ritis” which afflicted him especiallyContinue Reading

On:

I want to write downeverything I know, torecord every street I’vewalked, every landscapeobjectively, but I willhave to forget what isin my heart to do it. My heart, with its mismatchedcollection of untethered emotion,swirling before my eyes, obscuringsight, placing its subjectivityover all that is, privileging itselfover every thought or tactile sensation.Continue Reading

On:

For Rosie, and Madalynne, and Ethan(and Bo and Ruth) Dear God,it’s February.And the light paints her pink,[and I’m still a plagiarist,]gawking into my cell phone on the side of 10th Street. My brother and I got new tattoos andI got a concussion fixing my engine andShe has my middle name,myContinue Reading

On:

The cries and screams of childhood gamescharge through the sulphurous airthat lounges at the old swan pond.Sometimes I swung on the swing so highI could almost see the pond down there.Here I swung on until disturbed bythe ranger coming with his evening order.Now I look back at the still-revolving roundaboutoverContinue Reading