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For Arlene

A good friend of mine died, of AIDS, a few months back. I went to her, in the hospital, the day before she passed. This was near Boston, in a suburb.

Separate Vacations (Voyeurs In A Strange Land)

I was aware early on that we were on separate vacations, you in a sun-drenched country on the cusp of the rainy season, and I as lost as a piece of luggage, fallen into some dark, sludgy place, a certain waxy glaze over everything.

Discipline

The double-entry ledger system, pliés, a workable bicycle

Montana

Since You Left

I’ve been cleaning this house. / First sweeping you out of it, / dustballs behind old shoes in your closet, / stacks of last year’s catalogs, / the gray dirt that clings to clutter, / and then, unwittingly, / polishing, arranging, even decorating / you back in. How you were before / when I thought you happy.

Caleb’s Journal

I live alone. Other men might be lonely. But who can notice what might be absent when other things are present?

Sheltr For Sad Ould Men

The old man had walked a long way, from afar, and he was not well. He wiped his forehead and raised his head. Around him were sand, thistles, and strangely — where did it come from? — a house.

Love Stories

A waterfall of words, an undergraduate literary magazine, untranslatable Olde English phrases

Summer

The summer I was fifteen my father moved out, my breasts grew in, and my mother told me to call her Eve.

Things I’ve Been Meaning To Tell You