Ming
That’s why we don’t keep things in stairwells.—Mary Warnement, The Boston Athenaeum When the former curator remembers the Ming,remembers knocking it over, he remarks, “The thing took fucking forever to…
Path to Nowhere
My neighbor stands on her back stoop, watches me stampon shovels, me sweat, me tug up trash trees in my yard. This yard was all packed dirt, a crap-ass lack…
Accident, Mass. Ave.
I stopped at a red light on Mass. Ave.in Boston, a couple blocks awayfrom the bridge, and a woman in a beat-upold Buick backed into me. Like, cranked her wheel,rammed…
Looking at Saints
and Talking About Robots
Susan and I look at saints at the Met, trackdown Lucy, Catherine, Justina, palmbranches and swords, peaceful told-you-soexpressions. We walk out past cornus masand daffodils, forsythia, to the Frick. Pasta woman,…
Sonnet for the Money
How quickly we turn from grateful to greedy.—Ann Patchett Everybody knows money can turn it all around.Cover rent, school loans, groceries, everything we require—we find fresh needs: wooden bowls. A…
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