Essays

Essay |

“How Poems Change Us”

“I think of a poem’s shifts or transitions as tectonic … gliding plates that adjust and change the ground one stands on but with the acceptance of an embrace.”

Essay |

“The Nearness of Falling”

“A scientist claims that the increased stress of our modern life may be withering the hippocampus. During depression, it seems to shrink, contracting from the drought of optimism.”

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“Before I Let You Go”

“One year, my class, known as problematic for being easily distracted and causing disruptions that made us hard to teach, wasn’t assigned a homeroom teacher hired to break us. Mr. Lovette, that teacher, lacked bulk and a bulldog face.”

Essay |

“I Found A Tarantula”

“As Dylan writes in the prose poem ‘Ape on Sunday’ — ‘tho I might be nothing but a butter sculptor, i refuse to go on working with the idea of your praising as my reward — like what are your credentials anyway?'”

Essay |

“Confessions of a Pareidoliac”

“Imagine trying to find your way with a compass that wants every direction to be north. This is more or less where we are, perceiving the world around us by means of instruments that find patterns everywhere.”

Essay |

“Panta Rhei”

“We all wind up making our gods, and then turning into our gods, and then the other way around again, ad infinitum.”

Essay |

“The Reading”

“Atmospheric, was what someone’d said when it was all over, which I repeated the next day on the phone to M from Spain who was talking about the Argentine and his fetishes.”

Essay |

“Patience”

“Birdwatching is the neighborhood sport. It’s ‘exercise even,’ their shaggy, silver-haired neighbor Eddie says at the patio table, ‘with all that looking up and pointing.’ He’s got two bright rows of teeth he keeps readjusting.”

Essay |

“City Where the Pennies Look Out for You”

“… my wife walked past Chase Bank and the man, somehow still standing there, asked, ‘Can I have a dollar? You promised that you’d give me a dollar tonight and right now is tonight.'”

Essay |

on “Poems Not Written” / a recurring feature On The Seawall

“I read the lines to my father on his last day. Then I stopped working on it and for forty years it stayed in the folder that could have been labelled ‘orphan inspirations’ …”