Writing

Poetry |

“Remember the Red River Valley”

“At least he won’t feel the wind, still / blowing cold in May or the rusty hinge / call of the Prairie Larks. His father lies by his side.”

Poetry |

“There”

“The left foot, yours — that scar from the bone spur — / the belly was yours. How were you not there? // The snow was falling. It just kept on falling.”

Poetry |

“Childhood Suite”

“Her lipstick: unapologetic / crimson. Lacquered hollyberries on the Christmas / brooch pinned each year to the collar / of her winter coat. Patterned red apron, / in the yellow kitchen.”

Poetry |

“Time Is Distance” & “Confession”

“… They were ugly / And cheap and we bought them / When we were poor / And it is now so easy to let them / Go not because we are / Rich but because we have no / Heart for what we no / longer desire.”

Poetry |

“Sarah & Lila”

“In the cemetery, look for the husband’s name. / I finally find you, Lila — stone letters / freshly carved, marble bench facing a pond for / serenity.”

Poetry |

“Carried Onward to Our End”

“But there is no resolution to unknowing, pain; / There is the pale smoke that drifts above the charnel ground. / Shadow men and women bring corpses of their forbears, / bring firewood. Light flames. Tend fires …”

Literature in Translation |

“The Train”

“The train has stopped in a sleepy, quiet time, / this is the time of memory, / of waiting. / Mother says we will come back soon / to this land where my navel was buried, / where the / morning cicada sings and where flowers / never die.”

Poetry |

“Fitting the Profile” & “Traffic Report”

“The peculiar smell in the back / of a cop car is not old cum or stale perfume. / It’s Fear 101 or Advanced Fear, or both. / How many hands against how many / cars, how many cuffed, how many heads / shoved down into that seat?”

Poetry |

“Concrete Pastoral”

“… a Target parking lot’s grey order punctured / by the aquiline nose of an unhoused man / late in his seventies, belted neat in khakis, pulling // a carry-on …”