Poetry
Winter 1983
Express
Younger Son In the indigo nightlight of a Pullman roomette I climb down from my tangle-blanketed berth to sun in the glow from the bulb. I bathe in a bucket […]
Poetry
Autumn 1980
Whole Hours of Us
Time and again when I entered you I felt fire up my spine, that frail hook and ladder. I felt like a landlord ransacking his rooms with a flashlight and […]