Sweet friend, hear me. There will always be trouble.
In Sappho, the spaces name nothing — but the emptiness still speaks.
If you happen to meet someone for whom the season of light is a reminder of a dark time, of a sorrow or a loneliness, take a moment and sit with them, let them be that dark. Believe in their sorrow as you believe also in joy. Believe in them.
Sometimes we cross to the other side to get away from their carts and tarps, to avoid their dirty murky faces, but mostly we look through them, past them, above them, our eyes seeking the sanctuary of the shiny store windows.
1/ Maybe this is how it is: as you fall asleep a small hole opens in the back of your head just above the neck where children love to be … Continue reading →
A train pulls into the station. Passengers break like billiard balls, glide to cars and uses. Ezekiel the pushcart vendor hawks his hot potatoes. This is the month of the … Continue reading →
Abraham. What were you thinking nudging Isaac up that hill? You must have known some tests must be refused. You say I shouldn’t judge, that I’ve made my own mistakes … Continue reading →
after the great Grace Paley to mark these dark and dangerous times I was going to write a poem I made a call instead it took about the same … Continue reading →
The Summer I Took The Special Art Class I began to understand — the moon could be aspirin, or Necco, or clock or porcelain plate in the sky. The moon … Continue reading →
Fear fades, but the stain is set, remembered in odd neuron groups, each vignette remembered. The shadow of the bridge that floated on the water, the broken boy half-drowned, … Continue reading →
I didn’t want to get involved. Not ever again. I came up, politically, in the age of anti-Vietnam war protests and going door-to-door to end the proliferation of nuclear power … Continue reading →
. The Scholar, as Artist, Clears the Table Take the plate from the table carry it through the chambers. Don’t be confused by the dust, the spider webs, the sawdust. … Continue reading →
History’s a country of rubble and supposing, friend. We’ve thrown things into the air that will never touch the ground. Still I study. I read till my brain’s kaput, the … Continue reading →
Preferring comfort, you plan to discard your powers. To bury them in the garden or in your neighbor’s field. I don’t blame you. You’re tired of the chronic shivers, worn … Continue reading →