After Adam Zagajewski I am child to no one, mother to a… wife for the long haul. On fall days I am happy with my dying brethren, the leaves…

What we want is never simple. We move among the things we thought we wanted: a face, a room, an open book

We think of hidden in a white dres… among the folded linens and sachet… of well-kept cupboards, or just ou… sending jellies and notes with no… to all the wondering Amherst neigh…

The door of winter is frozen shut, and like the bodies of long extinct animals, cars lie abandoned wherever

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…

I have banked the fires of my body into a small but steady blaze here in the kitchen where the dough has a life of its…

I want to write you a love poem as headlong as our creek after thaw when we stand

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

I remember what my father told me: There is an age when you are most… He was just past fifty then, Was it something about the trees t… There is an age when you are most…

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

When they taught me that what matt… was not the strict iambic line goo… over the page but the variations in that line and the tension produ… on the ear by the surprise of diff…

I sing a song of the croissant and of the wily French who trick themselves daily back to the world

January Contorted by wind, mere armatures for ice or snow, the trees resolve to endure for now,

I am only leaving you for a handful of days but it feels as thought i will be gone forever the way the door closes

1. THE SACRIFICE On this tile the knife like a sickle-moon hangs in the painted air