One Page Torn From The Book of the Names of the Dead

One Page Torn From The Book of the Names of the Dead

            I’m walking on the dead, treading them down to         nothing but the crackling scraps of fiery leaves I           kick to extinguish them. Urbin Fiers    Bertha         Dick    Mykola Markovsky    Pieter Ombregt           Margaret Menino. I read...
Why the Moon Matters

Why the Moon Matters

    If the Earth is a hotel room and humans are the rockers who trashed it, the Moon regrets that cosmic management has not procured the imprint of a mortal credit card. The Moon and its subsidiaries are taking a look at the Moon’s own violent creation. Of...
Black Dog | White Snow

Black Dog | White Snow

              To move across the landscape like a lost           springbok. A bounding, arcing comma pure           and certain. She circles in a falling scrim           of flake and snow, through fractalled water           without weight. So, wild mind plows paths...
Talking It Out Before a Category Four

Talking It Out Before a Category Four

              In a city without winter           the leaves don’t change-and-fall,           they merely fall, without fanfare,           without meaning. I was afraid             to move here, where we knew           none of the 4 million, and had           no place...
Fortune Teller

Fortune Teller

              What did I want from her?           I already know           one half of life is to build,           the other half for wind to dismantle.             I know a person’s gait conveys           the number of stones in their heart.           I know history...
The Great Psychiatrist

The Great Psychiatrist

    I visited him three times. The first visit we spoke about T. S. Eliot’s play The Cocktail Party and the character he reminded me of, a sort of spiritual psychiatrist: a no-nonsense male authority figure with T. S. Eliot’s world-weary deep rueful skeptical...
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