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Poems

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  • CALLING BACK | CHARITY

    My daughter sings in snow falling through the scent of red oak or ash, some of the flakes large enough to contain passages from Emily Dickinson’s letters. 

  • One of a Series

    My daughter sees the sky from another angle, slate-blue reflected in a lake called living. 

  • My Courbet, by Jonathan Galassi

    My Courbet

  • Elegy & Brooklyn, 1957

    My brother told me we would join the Wide

  • A Controlled Substance

    My brother is late again, somehow the glass

  • Three Poems

    Mud to your waist. Beside you, six men probing with broken

  • MR. DARCY TALKS

    Mr. Darcy talks to the same woman

  • SUNDAYS | ALONE

    Mournful Sunday afternoons in winter,

  • “Flüchtige monde” / “fugitive moons” translated from the German by Joscha Klueppel

    mountains recall their flock of birds. the dear birds,

  • Woman, Man, Tepoztlán

    Mother, today I met a man.

  • Poems for the Absent One

    Mother death,

  • Amalgam

    Mostly, what I didn’t know didn’t hurt me