The little notebook, its pages an eye-ease greenish tint, with my staggering penciled captions labeling every blessed thing, each flower picked and pressed and taped down to the page, contains more than specimens of wildflowers from a Vermont meadow. It encloses the first summer I remember.
I will look at cliffs and clouds
With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind bow down the grass,
And the grass rise.
The courtyard’s chestnut tree,
already shedding leaves
in dulcet sunset heat,
stands tall and grieves.
This is the poem about the Beatles that
I never wrote, and now there are more
yesterdays than tomorrows
If people are concerned about climate change, they should seriously consider changing their dietary habits.
These birches were growing and sinking into their own soil
around the time of the building of Jericho
I swore I’d stop writing about liberal guilt
& about cats too, but I must confess
last night, I groomed our little black cat
with my tongue
Airstrikes conducted by the United States have killed between 22,000 and 48,000 civilians since September 11, 2001, according to a report published Monday by Airwars, a military watchdog that monitors … Continue reading