Category / Current

Nudes I & II

Nudes I Bathhouse, Hakone, Japan Once she crosses the threshold she takes off her clothes. Mirrors in the room register her body but for now they are superfluous; later, when she re-enters the familiar world, she may care how she

The Raccoon

Like an old Italian man, wobbling from too much wine, lost on his way home from bocce, he strayed into our yard – confused, overdressed in black overcoat and banded gray fedora, the gamey smell of deNobili cigars. When I

Letter to Jed from Niebla

I’ll write you about being a stranger, as I am also a stranger to traveling without you, and so a stranger to writing you letters. Below this cliff-side road (unnamed), you can see Niebla’s black sand beach and the Chilean


Damned if I’ll be the woman who collects mass produced throw pillows counts her county’s condoms shoots chemicals to drench the porch hornet on the way to recycle the obits hums Somalian rap—young—five minutes till the end one spring considers


Bring back our girls.   Bring back our dresses untorn bring wind for them bring our barrettes and the pretties we wanted bring back our chalk and the flies with no secrets bring tear-splash on kerchieves of mothers bring solace


Wary of the verb  “empathize”—together with its noun “empathy” and adjective “empathic”—I probably use “identify with,” “feel with,” or “relate to” instead.  I know that empathy and sympathy are often confused (and share a common Greek root in pathos or


  “Do I wake or sleep?”  John Keats   I sat in the parking lot of the sleep clinic for an hour before my appointment staring out at the mountains in the distance that appeared as gorgeous bodies in both

Two Poems

The Call   You and I, we have been here before. The phone rings, and you greet a machine with a voice that says, congratulations, you have been selected to receive that free thing you did not know you want


She looked better than she sounded as beauties from her country often do to the English. You can be taught to be mellifluous, a prime minister was, but you have to decide to learn.        Annette Barnes’ new

In the Late Style of Eros

Loneliness is a female shark who circles the tank repeatedly, feigning interest in aesthetics, before finally eating the male. The pleasure’s in not yielding to mere lust, or despair. Why bother telling you you look like a man I loved,


Joel and Ethan Coen, 2006     … death heightens every tension and permits us fewer of the half-truths by which we normally live. Laurence Durrell     This is No Country for Old Men. The young Llewellyn Moss, a Texan

Almost Lost Moment

Almost Lost Moment coming back in an incidental way, claiming to be the most beautiful moment of my life:  braiding her waist-length white hair by the Pacific at LaPush.  Hand over hand, the three-way crossings of apportioned strands, and quiet,


I. The heart in vital meter recites. A beat on a childhood table strikes. It strikes. I hear my mother sigh. Plates of grape-leaves, her lemon light, strung on a sacred sigh above my every bite. I couldn’t tell why

Two Poems

“the ugly purple corpse I lug behind me” the ugly purple corpse I lug behind me with all I’ve got, down a blind upholstered hallway: (still inside the big house on Corso Matteotti it appears): swaddled in rags and damp

Two Poems

In My Thorn Dream   The thing is the delicacy of the interwoven twig-vest hovering, not quite touching, but breathing a little when I breathe as wreath and wraithe prickle and twitch inside in the organ the dream drinks its