Articles

I mourn again my wrong belief / that evil can ignite the arrival of good

When it comes to commemoration, / the great advantage of sculpture/ is how it tends to outlast / not only what happened / but everything surrounding it, / suggesting a context / is that which rots away.

The syllables of my beloved are sweeter / than the cherry yogurt that once brimmed / these cups, her clavicle sturdier than corncobs, / her skin fairer than papery onion skins.

Three hours, midday: state minimum. / Three hours, midday: the god and her child deep in the forest.

It is said that a certain woman went to visit her sister. Before she knocked, she peeked through the curtain and witnessed something she had never seen.

I like to be a little cold what / / I mean is I need to feel just / uncomfortable enough to know I’m still / alive

Becoming involved in a poem, allowing the lines to unfold, not knowing if there’s going to be a surprise, a turn, or deepening—this is very similar to being with a patient or family as a chaplain when I don’t have all the answers. Part of my job is to sit with them in uncertainty. It’s a big white space.

I’ll tell you what / a proverb does. A proverb waits / for the knowing / / animal. A proverb talks / when no / one listens.