Fire and the Deep

I am burning through the decades, not figuratively as I finish my first fifth decade, no literally onto this bonfire I am pitching husks of barnacles like Porterfield Elementary autograph books, 40 years of birthday cards, Christmas photos, school concert programs, playbills, ticket stubs, pay stubs, tree bark, blurry photos, zoo photos, tree photos, maps … More Fire and the Deep

In Which Dogs Sniff out the Virus and Save the World, And Also Get Treats

They say that dogs can sniff out COVID in passengers at the Helsinki airport, offering a paw, or lying down – (even in this job, dogs are on our side – “I’m sorry,” they say with a paw, “you’re positive, but I will lie here with you.”) with near 100% accuracy. Maybe they smell it … More In Which Dogs Sniff out the Virus and Save the World, And Also Get Treats

Leaving for College in a Year Marked by Plague Calls for a Sonnet

I stand a moment in the space you left, while summer air curls through the windows wide – I, reconciling, make the empty bed, the sun lies on the laundered sheets and sighs; Your desk, your chest, your closet – clean and spare, these books have all been read, the records played – the things … More Leaving for College in a Year Marked by Plague Calls for a Sonnet

Heart in Darkness

The heart is a muscle The heart is a fist it’s strong and it’s wary, this beast in my breast. My heart has been sleeping My heart has dreamed dreams – It wakens, now, flexing, it growls and it gleams. My heart is gone hunting, My heart leads me on Through starless dark forests, on … More Heart in Darkness

Somewhere, Another (The Pied Billed Grebe)

A pied-billed grebe has already paddled madly halfway across this cove (its crested head sporting a half-hearted mohawk, its body a sputtering vector moving toward the northwest, Lake Superior swollen like a too-observant eye) before I realize that it has darted out from under this porch that hangs over the water where I stand holding … More Somewhere, Another (The Pied Billed Grebe)