#AmericanWriters
When our cars touched When you lifted the hood of mine To see the intimate workings under… When we were bound together By a pulse of pure energy,
Finding a new poet is like finding a new wildflower out in the woods. You don’t see its name in the flower books, and nobody you tell believes
The door of winter is frozen shut, and like the bodies of long extinct animals, cars lie abandoned wherever
We invent our gods the way the Greeks did, in our own image’but magnified. Athena, the very mother of wisdom, squabbled with Poseidon
Because the shad are swimming in our waters now, breaching the skin of the river with their
Pierre Bonnard would enter the museum with a tube of paint in his pocket and a sable brush. Then violating the sanctity of one of his own frames
It was early May, I think a moment of lilac or dogwood when so many promises are made it hardly matters if a few are bro… My mother and father still hovered
January Contorted by wind, mere armatures for ice or snow, the trees resolve to endure for now,
What we want is never simple. We move among the things we thought we wanted: a face, a room, an open book
When I taught you at eight to ride a bicycle, loping along beside you as you wobbled away
Into the gravity of my life, the serious ceremonies of polish and paper and pen, has come this manic animal
I married you for all the wrong re… charmed by your dangerous family h… by the innocent muscles, bulging l… weapons under your shirt, by your… the colors of painted scraps of su…
1. THE SACRIFICE On this tile the knife like a sickle-moon hangs in the painted air
I sing a song of the croissant and of the wily French who trick themselves daily back to the world
Perhaps the purpose of leaves is t… the verticality of trees which we… as if for the first time: row afte… yearning upwards. And since we wil… ourselves for so long, let us now…