Monthly Archives: August 2012

Simply put, someone or something either is or isn’t. He, she, or it exists and has being or doesn’t. You’ll recall that life starts and ends that way in the form of presence or non-presence. In school, students were either … Continue reading →

It was time now for love’s new song. His salvation lay far beyond her imagined graces. It was time now to give thanks, to burn all mementos. He would sing of her praises beyond their conclusion. It was time at … Continue reading →

You ask for the dream like a child set on ice cream at a Saturday circus You yearn for old calendars, broken clocks & promise to keep your corner clear of webs You want to retell your famous life-story to … Continue reading →

Our earliest sense is that of being simultaneously connected and removed. Attached, literally, to our mothers, and yet somehow, separate, living separate lives especially from the point of umbilical cord severance. We go on from that critical physical juncture –experiencing … Continue reading →

(in memory of Glen) arrive in darkness another dead soul seeking refuge: room key, elevators sauna, ice & pay tv but open drapes in the dawn to a still-life mountain & the lake huge with frost nothing moves for at … Continue reading →

I heard you going down again for the last time, saw a familiar hand waving, remembered that face from another time. You were easy to rescue. I know the ways of quicksand, recall my own head disappearing as I called out … Continue reading →

You were the rarest book of all, for me, the ultimate edition. Much of you had been unread though you remained in great shape, unfaded and unmarked. Crisp and fine, inscribed to me only, a true collectible. Bibiliophile that I … Continue reading →

E. M. Forster’s “Only connect” is probably the truest two-word statement ever uttered. And one can connect on many levels: between oneself and others, between one and nature, and between one and any work of art, be it film, book, … Continue reading →

“‘Tis not too late to seek a newer world.”–Tennyson, “Ulysses” He had come to New England in the third quarter of his life, had come to where the October highway forked and he could see now that the road he … Continue reading →

In the fall we drift along the tree-lined streets of unfamiliar places. Leaves cover everything: sleepy cars and houses sidewalks and our coats. My son drags his foot beside the curb like a street-cleaner but even he admits we could … Continue reading →