The Longfellow Bridge
The T runs down the heart of the bridge. The cars shake in the dim light left by the dregs of the day...
Poetry
Airplanes Over the Bog
Bagno. The name means bog. The village may have been a bog before the drainage ditches gridded it into kolkhoz...
Like Two Dogs Dancing
He turns into the comforter of rain, no umbrella or hat, just the quilted sidewalk. The spume from wheels passing...
[Content warning: animal death]
The Wandering Daughter Returns to Her Neglected Patrimony
From the half-finished bunker of the concrete basement That was to be the foundation of our now-abandoned Familial abode that I will neither finish nor furnish...
Grudzień
The tall, even pines
with sand at their feet
brood black between their trunks...
In the Park with Grandmother, Olsztyn, Poland 1981
The hard blue sky behind her
run through with a single white thread
of a contrail...
One July at 2 a.m.
Speeding down the kudzu highway where Atlanta’s orange glow chokes stars, he forced the '82 stick- shift Toyota too close to its effective frequency. I thought...
Aubade
In that moment I wonder was Freud right after all, is the female nothing, nothing...
Intercourse
I am not a hole, but in this moment I become it. When the act is finished...
His Eyes
There’s nothing. Nothing behind your blue
eyes, lord of lies, evil magnet,
lodestone of my worst nature...