Boluisce I root my fingers, burying them back and down. A twist into black, acidic soil, deeper than anything man-made....
A Meditation on the Land —remembering a farm foreclosure. For Darrell Ringer, 1953-93 “Thank you,” he said, while the black...
A Thin Place If you walk in a straight line across the beach from the footpath which runs between blue...
Autumn Caledonia County, Vermont Why not write something for those who scratched out improbable livings here? Somebody has...
There are no blue plaques in our village, no Heaney or Shackelton or Yeats to commemorate. A notable event is...
Circa 1900 Waldo sharpened the blades of his turn-of-the-last-century sled and slid Downhill at age eighty-four. His wife chided him,...
Crossing Places At the crossing places when the river is still and ghosts untangle themselves from the trees you can...
All day they mumble in a clump outside the hive. I water the days of an unexpected life. I fill...
All Flesh Is Grass The days passed quickly, back then, though some hours lingered in that hot hospital room, waiting,...
You will ask—name the mushrooms on the grounded log And the anatomies of the shifting clouds. Tell me these fifty-one shells on...
Ciboloto Miss Yang gone to the Western Hemisphere never been back since seeds on her desk have sprouted and grown...
Along the upper Spoon River, 1935 When they found him at last, he was face down in a pool of...