A stillness which is very nearly mineral
Keeps insisting upon the essential
Loneliness with which this light is filled.
“The infinite mistake of Pittsburgh does not take from the fact that the set of photographs is among my finest.”
The only connection I felt to the mills
was to the children of a generation of flayed men
on unemployment, the storefronts boarded…
Years ago the friend of a friend called me
A “Professional Irishman.” Fair enough.
i. You’d see them in the railyard, Coupled and waiting in line To be topped off with that cargo Tapped from the blast furnaces: Magma they’d freight nightly Along … Continue reading
White cups floating above the waters in their cut-glass vase, The tulips have finally opened, while beside her— Pittsburgh, winter—windows shimmer with freezing rain. It’s the morning after the … Continue reading