Poetry
Summer/Fall 1999
No Countries but the Distance of the World
And the smoke of the incense rose with the prayers of the saints from the hand of the angel before God. —Revelation 8:4 My life has always been too large […]
Poetry
Spring 1996
Vespers
Night is dark ink. No sound but the muffled movements of the living. Three polite taps at the gray slats of the guest door. Beneath it, the bobbing, red […]
Poetry
Spring 1996
Writing to an Enemy
I am writing this to you because my father confessor has asked me to, because he and I have sat alone togetheramong the candlelight and sieved shadows, because I let […]