Prayer
Every hour I am disappearing
poetry
Her Kind
All those nights your husband saying, "Yes,
Judith
What we decided on the front steps eating
Rivers of Morning, Rivers of Fire
In the north of the wheatfields
Charlie Manson Comes to Town
I live in the town of ice
A Koan
A koan only goes as far as it goes, but a life -
Landscape with the Gathering of the Ashes
You cannot see their faces
Eighteen Short Songs of the Bitter Motherland (tr. Demetres P. Tryphonopoulos)
Wretched words baptized in bitterness and wailing,
One of the Things I told Ernest Hemingway
I say, "You can buy pictures or clothes.
Several Men Named Francis
A man named Francis is always just coming from
Pages
Current Issue: No. 301
