We Will Never Forget

We Will Never Forget

What we remember most was never real: there was never a white van but we feared it. Yes, he was shooting, but no van, and it wasn’t white, why did we say otherwise? You had to factor it in, avoid places by the interstate within eyesight of a clump of trees. We had...
Christ’s Entry into Brussels in 1889

Christ’s Entry into Brussels in 1889

When I pick up my 90-year-old father-in-law to drive him to the early service at Galilee Church, where he has gone for the last quarter century, he hobbles out through the two automatic doors of the retirement home on his flimsy wood cane. He has lost weight so his...
Knot

Knot

I stuffed your hair in my jacket pocket. Stroked its feathers and told stories about a dark snorting horse the birds watch and the flies heckle. I still get the knots inside when I stroke. The knots telling me about the parts of the body and how they can hurt. How...
La Havre

La Havre

My girlfriend and I on bicycles in foggy dusk gratefully coasted downhill to Southampton docks to take the ferry to France. Week two of a three-month trip so we still photographed everything: us, waiting. Not married yet, so still we photographed everything. Us....
Two Poems

Two Poems

  Grand Central            I thought of you today, Billy Collins, in the subway changing trains at the center of eight million poems turning and turning like a tourist bewildered under the clock inside the palace at the still point of an analog world in a digital...
The Futility of Biography

The Futility of Biography

             Can she really be known, she whom we romanticize?          We can research her family tree, the number of children she bore          and with whom, the climate in which she lived—Did it rain a lot?          Was their social unrest? We can guess what kinds...