Heat and Desperation
Preparation, she thought,as if a pianist,limbering, stretching.But fingers are tendon, not spirit;are bone and muscle and skin.Increase of reach extends reach,but not what comes then to fill it.What comes to…
A Day Comes
A day comeswhen the mouth grows tiredof saying "I." Yet it is occupiedstill by a self which must speak.Which still desires,is curious.Which believes it also has a right. What to…
Poe: An Assay (I)
In “The Gold Bug,” the overt finding of the treasureis tossed out mid-tale like a bone to a waiting dog.His stories were not intended for the canine heart that howls…
A Concerned American Tries
Greek Food for the First Time
I sit in the restaurant and think,You Greeks, is this what you eatevery day? It’s delicious, this,what is it? Pastitsio? Delicious.It’s a culture I could loiter around,pretend to bump into…
A Cat’s Last Summer
Still the warblers forage, in silence,In myrtle fragrance as August turns autumnal. Day after day she sitsOn the same patch of grass,Her senses waning, the well-deep eyes enlargedBut not for…
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