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Poems

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  • Learning to Play It Again

    While my daughter was learning Clementi —

  • It was never he, | One might say I’ve fulfilled the miserable obligation of constructing myself.

    It was never he,

  • Family

    None of my friends called their grandmother Nana.

  • True Bug | I Will Be Good

    I’ve been talking to a bug all winter.

  • The Big Blow

    After the snow-soused April gale I wandered

  • Notnames at the Detroit Institute of the Arts and Hell Fuckin’ Yeah:  Smackdown vs. Raw

    At the Detroit Institute of the Arts the Caravaggio’s no

  • Coda alla Vaccinara | A Dusting

    From Keats’s grave, past the Paladiana and Coyote

  • Two poems translated from Spanish by Adriana Scopino

    What a fire is kindled in the windows

  • Vocal

    Outgrown, the prairie lot

  • After the War for Independence and Despite Nostalgia

    Those boys in the basement, middle-schoolers, unruly

  • My Lovely Garonne

    Because every tenth poem or so the poet described

  • August, Hinge

    How would you describe these pandemic days,