not even the rain has such small hands Smokestacks of oak, hickory and birchlurch in the balance of sleet and snowon a confused Sunday in early Mayas my woods fill up with snow.It’s a snowy eveningtucked away on this Highland Park cul de sachugging Lake Michigan’s shoreas the gales of this Spring dayrecall the final […]Read more "not even the rain has such small hands"
after Adrienne Rich fox danced between me and the very still water headed north past geese and white-beaked birds leaving V’s in the water, far from the cocker spaniel five minutes before or lighted towers brightening our left sides as we risky walked beneath darker skies, I felt the opaque absence of fear for her […]Read more "a standing still"
a chemical weep a gated lake drift a littered old heap a walk on the beach a duck’s narrow knees shored on concrete get on the dock look at that fish shiny like trash this freshwater beach a big owner’s dream a weeping sand dune a city-slicked reachRead more "a city-slicked reach"
Winter break: Back to upstate New York at last, at least for an hour, to write about two sisters and a small rusty town in the Appalachia. Strange that it all started on a plane ride to Chicago in September. Plane rides do wondrous things for my writing. The spaciousness of my bird’s eye view […]Read more "Multiple Burners"