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Without Fear

Talks With American Students

It is important to be aware of what is, not what should be, because the “what should be” is a fiction, a myth, a romantic notion, which all religions and idealists throughout the ages have nurtured and exploited. What good is the ideal of nonviolence if I am full of violence?

Peak Experiences

Two blue herons, a red tail-feather, wild blueberries

Selected Poems

The Flag-Draped Coffin

Oron flanks left with the small platoon of formally dressed sailors, all in ceremonial blue wool, all armed with parade M-1 rifles. The overcast sky is ashen on this mid-November day, and the wind pulsates bleakly over this little land of the dead.

Mama’s Story

I’ve warned Mama not to tell her story today. Mama has a visitor, a Mrs. Thompson from her Sunday School class. First Baptist believes in staying in touch.

Selected Poems

All month I thought of your body, / soft with its delicious baby flesh / and fragile with its hidden bulbs and bones, // and knew you would be torn. / I pulled your small shoulders / closer as the days passed, / and some nights felt the tumor / rise beneath my palm like a burl / in a redwood forest, / worrywart, skullcap / under the duff of your skin.

—from “The Operation”

Parting Words

Though several members of my childhood family have died, the passing of all but two of them took place unexpectedly and at a distance, and I was not able to say goodbye. On two occasions I was there, the dying spoke to me, and their conversation was memorable. Their last words to me seemed a summary of their lives and a way of giving me a part of themselves that would remain in the world after they had left it.

Goodbye

When my mother screamed into the phone for me to get over there, “Daddy’s dead,” a long waiting period ended. My father’s failing health over several years had left him almost helpless; he had demanded and received from my mother as much care and supervision as a infant.

Leaving

A mother’s smile, a hippie girl, a farm in England

Selected Poems