Poetry
Winter 1984
Speaking of Sounds
For Holley Haymaker So you like that muffled echo, like a runlet’s faraway drizzle into a cavern’s inky pool, which is the steeped coffee’s little fall in the pot? And […]
Poetry
Winter 1984
Letter to a Cousin on His Twentieth Deathday
I After weeks of tasks, petty chores for petty gains, I want to write like Milton did. Some vast music well beyond cluttered sight should swell my heart, engage this […]