The Blue One will live to see the Caterpillar rut everything they walk on—seacliff buckwheat cleared, relentless ice plant to replace it, the wild fields bisected
My Father Finally Says Out Loud the Word I’ve Only Heard Him Think Calling it a rehab center doesn’t change this nursing home, doesn’t daub dry the drool or bring…
Gulls at Todd’s Point Shivering, knowing how lines of the tide use seaweed, and sea-drift, and sea-touch (and bone) to etch with, I wait to be marked on the sand
King: April 7, 1968 We had wanted, at least, to touch your sleeve. We brought both babies as to a christening. —Van K. Brock, “King” We stood in line for…
Say something about the old neighbor who lives alone, the woman no one has seen in years, if at all. Say she cracked her yellowed shade and spoke to you,…
Today’s poem is a translation of a poem by the late Mahmoud Darwish by Fady Joudah. It appears in the collection If I Were Another. Truth Has Two Faces and…