Tag Archives: poetry

Armageddon Blues

I wrote the poem “Armageddon Blues,” which was published in Salamander Poetry Journal in Winter 2018-2019. It doesn’t seem to have lost its relevance! The enduring question: Is there time to slice the cucumber? ARMAGEDDON BLUES If my nerves were … Continue reading

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Digging Out, Literally!

The fun of digging out is that we are digging out from what we are seldom digging out from.   We are not working our way out of spates and chains of email, nor piles of snail mail, nor escaping … Continue reading

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What Asked to Come Back from the Trip

One charming cliche pops up when you are going on a trip — people ask, can you pack me in your suitcase?  When you’re returning, it’s a moot point.  Or is it?    I wouldn’t have known it when I … Continue reading

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The Carpe Diem Dilemma

Oh, moralizing culture! Since we have so little understanding of where we are, there will be endless pronouncements of where we are. Certainties about what we’ve learned from the pandemic, and prophetic images of our future.  The more we don’t … Continue reading

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Eternal Memories in the Eternal City

Eternal memories from the Eternal City, Rome, 2018, from the weeks we were lucky enough to spend in Testaccio. That year, religious holidays fell at the same time — Passover Seder was finishing as Easter bells began to ring.   In … Continue reading

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Stuck in the Stalls of History

In Roberto Bolaño’s Savage Detectives, his sprawling novel of poets, revolutionaries and Pinochet, I remember most vividly the scene of a poet trapped in a stall of the bathroom as riot police entered her university.   Where else would she … Continue reading

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Release

I wanted a cheap fix, a release, an anythingbut the present thing, a veering from catastrophe and know as the wind blowsthere is no quick fix but jeez, how little is granted, how stingy reality, how it seeps its goodness,  what … Continue reading

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THEY

THEY Kafka saw it, part tragedy, part comic. They pulled us off our axisput us in immobilis, the gnawing cellof isolation, of terror who is there, with a hand to catch — to touch us — Time slows down     stands still the top … Continue reading

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The God-Emperor

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What Augurs, August?

I always feel trapped by August, its thick cluster of vowels.  Clotted.  Lugubrious, made for a lazy tongue.  Made for  limbs given up to the sun.  If it were a kitchen sauce, it would need to be thinned.  If there … Continue reading

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