When I pull onto Sunset Beach Road in the purple twilight, a couple is already standing entwined in front of their truck, tail lights pointed at Lake Michigan, peering into the western sky; I am not the only one who thought to watch from the bay. Do you see anything? they ask, without preamble, as … More Waiting for Comet Neowise
If we were still in the old world, the six-weeks ago one, right now a girl with a make-up pencil might be standing before you with a mock frown – “stand still!” she’d say, drawing crow lines on your face, not crow’s feet, but lines to make you look like a crow, so you could … More There is no Wizard
This full moon is an open book left for you in the beach house you rent for the summer, full of some other family’s things. The preface, nothing but light. As days flip by, thin as ghosts, you lose the plot: the moon comes up in another part of the house, sets when you aren’t … More The Book of the Covid Moon
And it’s the beginning of the end of the world – the regulars are turned out of the taverns, red-faced and singing defiantly, swaying and carrying their jackets under their arms into the almost-spring night, leaving behind the warm beer-sign bubbles, the cracked cheer of the bartenders, the pilsner philosophy of their fellow compatriots holding … More The Lights Flicker Once, Last Call in Suamico
We do not speak of the outside world – we whistle at the sun nosing around the fraying stratus clouds, lifting and dropping golden rays that splash our ankles and the winter-dead grasses – we call out to our dogs sniffing one another in turn, then exuberantly rolling in the dead carp that the bald … More By Tacit Agreement, Sunday at the Sensiba Trail
Chickadees, snowshine, tourmaline skies; Blue jays, jack pine, solitude mine.
We “go thrifting,” my daughter and I, because it’s again cool to be uncool and because she can’t yet hear the murmurs of each discarded thing. I dread finding items I’ve already cast off at the Goodwill on Oneida street; I prepare to glance away awkwardly, pretending to see something that interests me in the … More A Confederacy of Dunces and Castoffs
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
I am the reflection of a star on the dark glass of the river just before dawn breaks.