Poetry
Spring 1991
Draggers
When nothing’s going on but windand every street’s a back street,I love to drive among white clapboard houses that seem huddledto the road in this short light, and between the […]
Poetry
Spring 1991
Skylights
Every October, after a day when something exotic has landed at the feeder and waits gasping there as on a prowfar out at sea, a myrtle or Canada warblerjust too […]
Poetry
Spring 1987
September Dory Race
Thud of the brass cannonpassed through usand they headed for the redcan buoy, and soon,on the far side of the bay,seemed rooted, eelgrass patchesagainst the sandstrip beachexcept when sunlike a […]
Poetry
Spring 1987
March 11, 50°
Things are coming loosealong the routefall took four months ago.Something is lopingcross-field toward you,getting barked off farms.The first plover of the yearknows it and takes offpiping like a corkworked in […]