Lurker
By Poetry Issue 114
I had always wanted to grow children here
in the cornfields, where it would be easy
to teach them about God
Homage to Life, 2003
By Poetry Issue 114
The grids are finally gone. Even while at the facility, Agnes drove to her art studio each day to work. I think about the people who bathed her, who cut up her food into trapezoids.
Read MoreThe Islands, 1961
By Poetry Issue 114
A poem for Agnes Martin.
Read MoreTorschlusspanik, with Stage Directions from The Tempest
By Poetry Issue 114
In this time of uncertainty
your father’s building
a small wooden boat
From Jonah
By Poetry Issue 114
Is perfection aligned with intransigence? …what relation does perfection have to prophecy?
Read MoreBlithe Congregation
By Poetry Issue 114
A cloud is suspended in the west
and squalls assail us from the south,
but no one can fathom what is now.
Farm Mother
By Poetry Issue 114
You said they loved you
because you fed them
Great House
By Poetry Issue 114
I watched through the window
sunlight performing nothing in particular while the radio announced
if someone were to die, we could not hold a funeral.
The Wings
By Poetry Issue 114
On prayer, air travel, and finding place.
Read MoreFear Not
By Poetry Issue 114
On caring for an aging parent
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