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Poems

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  • What We Do with What We Are

    I did not get better.

  • The Last Photograph

    a golden shovel on the opening line of Gwendolyn Brooks’ “To Prisoners”

  • Lion Cub & Whales

    We’d taken to being clever, or is that merely mischievous?

  • Three Poems

    Woman in Drugstore, Receptionist, Counter Lady with Change for a Quarter, Clubwoman, Saleslady, Train Passenger

  • Suburban Landscape, Summer

    Me, young and girlish, flesh not yet mourning.

  • Five Poems

    His Dublin sister, two sons,

  • Paying a Blind Man to Wash and Wax My Car

    Maybe they’re right, friends who mock me,

  • Three Poems

    A neighbor called me about the neighbors in the blue house between us.

  • From The Little Book of Passage

    Ecco il fiume che mi allarga lo sguardo, che mi attraversa la fronte.

  • Pathetic Fallacy

    Jog through this suburb at a blue hour

  • Aeolus

    The camouflaging wind gets

  • Edinburgh University Anatomical Collection

    Take shelter awhile from mortality