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

Into the gravity of my life, the serious ceremonies of polish and paper and pen, has come this manic animal

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.

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…

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…

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 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…

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

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

When I taught you at eight to ride a bicycle, loping along beside you as you wobbled away

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

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

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