For Jews, the Cossacks are always… Therefore I think the sun spot on… is melanoma. Therefore I celebrat… New Year’s Eve by counting my annual dead.

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…

Because the shad are swimming in our waters now, breaching the skin of the river with their

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,

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…

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

The gathering family throws shadows around us, it is the late afternoon Of the family. There is still enough light

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…

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…

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

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

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