Thursday, August 21, 2008
Saturday, August 09, 2008
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
A cheeky shot one crisp morning
after morning prayer.
Although I'm constantly disappointed
by Yale Campus (O Cambridge),
it has its charms.
So I was walking through
Woolsey Passage when I noticed
for the first time all these
plaques remembering Yale
graduates who went on to become
missionaries in China.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Saturday, March 29, 2008
All week she's cleaned
someone else's house,
stared down her own face
in the shine of copper-
bottomed pots, polished
wood, toilets she'd pull
the lid to--that look saying
Let's make a change, girl.
But Sunday mornings are hers--
church clothes starched
and hanging, a record spinning
on the console, the whole house
dancing. She raises the shades,
washes the rooms in light,
buckets of water, Octagon soap.
Cleanliness is next to godliness ...
Windows and doors flung wide,
forward and back, neck bones
bumping in the pot, a choir
of clothes clapping on the line.
Nearer my God to Thee ...
She beats time on the rugs,
blows dust from the broom
like dandelion spores, each one
a wish for something better.
from Domestic Work, 1999
Walking through a field with my little brother Seth
I pointed to a place where kids had made angels in the snow.
For some reason, I told him that a troop of angels
had been shot and dissolved when they hit the ground.
He asked who had shot them and I said a farmer.
Then we were on the roof of the lake.
The ice looked like a photograph of water.
Why he asked. Why did he shoot them.
I didn't know where I was going with this.
They were on his property, I said.
When it's snowing, the outdoors seem like a room.
Today I traded hellos with my neighbor.
Our voices hung close in the new acoustics.
A room with the walls blasted to shreds and falling.
We returned to our shoveling, working side by side in silence.
But why were they on his property, he asked.
from Actual Air, 1999
Open City Books, New York