Writing

Poetry |

“Variations”

“Jenny showed us patterns on her viola / through the spastic tinkle of Zoom. // I tried reading some of my Goldbergs poems, / mostly inaudible.”

Essay |

“Guesting”

“I didn’t know then and don’t know now if the notion of cost/exchange brought me closer to the woman who made you possible. Or to you, even while our bodies were like braided dough in your bed on the floor …”

Poetry |

“My Mother’s Pocketbook”

“… a linen hanky reeking / of Jungle Gardenia, / a rain bonnet folded neatly // in its plastic sleeve …”

Poetry |

“Figuration” and “Pandemonic”

“The silence of lawn chairs in falling snow, / half-built houses draped in tarps, / satellites that blink across night sky, / their lights a pulse that leaves no trace.”

Essay |

“Kostis Palamas Does Not Attend His Own Funeral”

“And Kostis Palamas drifts, then sits on a hill. A hill of trees. Reciting his poems against the Occupation — certain salve of Greece that is its history and its disease.”

Poetry |

from “Mandarin Pandemic Diary”

“Now the neighbor’s black cat is already hunting. / Birds, be careful. I’ll be careful. / I remember. I forget. / The black cat, like rain, disappears.”

Poetry |

“Last November” and “Tracks”

“The heat broke in the night and we woke to our breath / swept the ash from the hearth     lit holiday mailers / with a long lighter so logs would catch …”

Poetry |

“Ololyga” and “ordure”

“Soon it was ash falling on everything falling / on the invisible frequencies of an Internet of pain // the women had strung across and through themselves.”

Essay |

“’Then was the fear a little quieted’: at the reading last night”

“Ralph read some poems about bears because he saw Hayden Carruth read, & Hayden said, ‘Wouldn’t it be great to write nothing at all except poems about bears?’ & so Ralph wrote ‘a garland of bears.’ & some of those poems were about Hayden …”

Poetry |

Three Poems by Sappho

“And if now she runs away, soon she will chase; / if she refuses gifts, soon she’ll bring her own; / if she won’t love you, soon she will be longing …”

Poetry |

“A Yellow Cab Driver”

“Then I think of my mother and the nights / she crab-walked home after peeing herself behind the wheel. / She couldn’t find a toilet on the clock.”