Poetry
Summer 1990
Salt
The San Francisco Bay Region is one of the few areas in the world where salt is commercially recovered from brine by solar evaporation. The Bay itself provides the brine, […]
Poetry
Spring 2009
How to Put It
The fragment as spoken by the one lost. His heart singing in its dish. The dish breaking beneath his heart’s singing. Down by the reservoir cars slide into the darkening […]
Poetry
Spring 2009
What Is Visible Is What Mostly Is
So this too is no longer a poem about the bat in the opera house and not that other one either. Nothing Fleder—. Nothing—maus. Not the brown one in the […]
Poetry
Autumn 2005
What, Sweetie?
Death means whatever death means, Sweetie. —man to his wife, overheard And endlessly so. But not again, I think. Hence the confusion. Picture this: a single graceful hill- side washed […]
Poetry
Winter 2001
The Map Is of Another World
I. This legend is uneasy, unreliable, wrong—And restless. I am of two hearts and between One word and the body’s little failures. The sky is adding numbers in its sleep: […]
Poetry
Spring 1997
Poem about the Cages with a Sentence from Wallace Stevens
Cage I (The Cage) No point mentioning the bars. It's dark. The ceiling is low; the floor's cold. You're bent double and up to your ankles in dirty water. […]
Poetry
Spring 1997
The Revisionist’s Dream (I)
Old as seawater. And the dream as large as a sea. We dream like that. And longer than that. Wider. And hear the sound of bleak bells like flat stone […]
Poetry
Spring 1997
The Revisionist’s Dream (III)
Not that he stole the fire, but that the body of flame continued there. And separate, continued—the flame from the center of the flame, what fire is. And the dream, […]
Science, Science Fiction and Poetry
Autumn 1993
The Various Reasons of Light
I It is at night that faith in light is admirable. EDMOND ROSTAND, Chantecler Because someone said, “Let’s walk,” and then the fire rose from the heart of the ice, […]
Poetry
Spring 1992
For Brigit in Illinois
Dear Brigit, (Come back.) Here the quiet moon burns like hayfire over the mountain; the lush rose, wild as milkweed, burgeons in the dark on the roadside where, in daylight, […]