Essay |
on Poems Not Written / a recurring feature On The Seawall
“… the poems I have not written come from a deep fatigue or suspicion in the poetic endeavor, and the poetic, speaking body as reduced or annihilated to dust or ash …”
Poetry |
“Prayers from a Dark Room”
Poetry |
“The Next Day” and “Really”
Poetry |
“Death Call”
Poetry |
“Moss”
Essay |
“December”
“Books don’t prepare you for what’s coming. Manuals for pregnant women must have been written by mothers completely drugged by love for their children, without the slightest pinch of critical distance.”
Essay |
“With This Needle I Thee Mend: The Oldest Tool Still Used”
“Hanging by a thread, we have kept our secret weapons, our needles, and brought them along for millennia.”
Fiction |
“How I Became A Writer”
“My friend pulled to the side of the road, and we checked the tires and underneath to see if we had broken something loose or were leaking fluid. All was OK until we heard the moaning and whistling.”
Poetry |
“Soul Sacrifice”
Poetry |
“You Are Not a Ghost Town”
Fiction |
“Yield to the charm of catastrophe …”
“Radical doubt appoints us to the public institution of the soul. The surface of attention stripped of sense and elasticity, we have no greater recourse than replacing our invention of a vigorous transcendence with a lazy null …”