Articles

They had left about forty crows
in the conference room, as a test.

An artist’s solitary toil often elicits comparison with the life of a cloistered monk, as both vocations navigate between isolation and communion.

It’s only a blast of gunpowder that loves
to say its own last name

Love is
a dying into only.

As I watched him settle into his seat, I felt the tension in his body almost as if it were my own, as if in his taut shoulders and straight spine he was holding himself rigid against the enormity of desire pressing down on him, as I had at his age.

The recordings of jazz pianists are revised by a magnetic field.

I offered what I could from my human heart to hers. May you be blessed with protection. May love shine its face on you. May peace turn toward you.

I carry the bones
of everyone I have loved, even a little,
and of every forebear atop my head.

The luckiest can
be shown how
to walk through
fire en route

a dream whose
herrings all run
in red weather