Ithaca–Burlington–Rutland–Great Meadows–Hudson Falls–Albany; home on Amtrak. September 1985; 433 miles. Via Raleigh.     Comment: A return to places I’d been as a young person—Burlington, VT (having ranged first through Continue reading →

Paint over creases in the paper, in the archive, swish that color right into the edges till we shine, you and I, we shine, bodies submerged emerge in the beaten still Continue reading →

                             For Verna and Diana Fontaine That night of apparition        snow became horses      Continue reading →

The sun is an old tire. The sun is a grand piano. The sun is a borrowed mother, a sutured wind, a still spiral air.              Continue reading →

I have murderous thoughts like  what if the virus should kill us all  hiding in my home watching  the earth thaw and the birds  returned too early worry  up and down Continue reading →