Poetry
Winter 1997
My Wife Asks Me Why I Keep Photographs in a Drawer
Beneath T-shirts and underwear, A few almost-sepia photographs Of my mother and father—before they knew me. My mother stands in front of the school Where she first taught fourth grade. […]
Poetry
Winter 1997
Imagining Napalm: Harvard Square Summer (1967)
Neither the sky nor the succulent earth But the sticky sizzle of asphalt, Honking fumes, The ratcheting clack of redoubtable trolleys, Empty wine jugs set on walls, car roofs, statues, […]
Poetry
Winter 1997
The Great Depression
The glow of pennies in a quart canning jar The glow of the numinous wooden radio The glow of late May … It was as if a giant had swallowed […]