Browse Sections

Green Man Walking

An Element Of Tragedy

One Single Breath

After Surgery

When Men Stopped Wearing Hats, When Women Stopped Wearing Gloves

Selected Poems

Winter Solstice

The longest night of the year and I’m awake / in an overheated apartment on the Upper West Side. / I roll over and over like a rotisseried hen / while Janet’s breath softly rises and falls / and our son sleeps soundly on the floor, / his broken leg silently knitting bone to bone.

Early Space Travel

I take my son into the dusk, / under trees still heavy / with the season’s first rain. / We watch as the entire / face of the moon darkens, / like a child with a bad cold.

Prayer In The Strip Mall, Bangor, Maine

The week after Thanksgiving and the stores are decked out / for holiday shopping, including a T.J. Maxx, where what was / once too expensive loses its value and attracts us

Selected Poems

Because our sons adore their plastic missile launchers, / cybertronic space bazookas, neutron death-ray guns, / a decade down the pike it won’t prove difficult / to trick them out in combat boots / & camouflage fatigues

— from “Memorial Day”