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Wild parrots in a storm on Russian HillScreech their one vowel and eat the cherry blossoms,Not bothered by February rain and wind. Buddhism here in the Bay is fresh and…

Lost arts of cochineal enamel and earthen bell foundry.Shelling of the Parthenon, flooding of Sioux burials.Let’s caper in memory of our mothers and fathers.(Step and turn, step to me, darling)…

Ifeanyi says in his country a babyIs It until it learns to be one of Us. I am in my Igbo second infancy.The coral, a quarrel, a glacier, my lungs. The weather, the…

Blessed is He who came to Earth as a BullAnd ravished our virgin mother and ran with herAstride his back across the plains and mountainsOf the whole world. And when…

Robert Pinsky

I’ve got you in my pocket, Ich hob mir fer pacht.It sees me and I cannot spell it. Ich hob dich in bud, which means I see you as ifYou…

I have heard that adolescence is a recent invention,A by-product of progress, one of Capitalism’s Suspended transitions between one state and another,Like refugee camps, internment camps, like the Fields Of…

Ellen Pinsky

Is it dark morning?my children askin the pre-dawns of winter.This time, I don’t knowthe answer. I hope so, my loves,I damn sure hopethis sightless coldis the broad back of daylightturning…

I remember I sat in the backseat with a tireand fishing paraphernalia and an open rustytoolbox, as if this part of the car (a seasaltscoured blue Chevy) were part of…