THE NIGHTMARE
Even as comedy, I want not to care about these recent rounds of politics. I want to disdain them, to be above the fray. There’s so much rhetoric that grates on my nerves. Words lose their meaning. Like the word…
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Even as comedy, I want not to care about these recent rounds of politics. I want to disdain them, to be above the fray. There’s so much rhetoric that grates on my nerves. Words lose their meaning. Like the word…
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READING WHITMAN AT DUSK Our fevered mother earth, so poorly loved and overworked, on life support yet not quite middle-aged. When I was young, I read you like a Whitman poem, like a mountain in bloom with…
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SPRING AND ALL “April is the cruelest month,…” T. S. Eliot. The energy of spring coming to life is at one with childhood and youth, but by mid-life and on into old age, it can be hard on a…
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The Renunciate Her idea of a good time was us alone in a small room with a desk and a common book of prayer. Her idea of a good breakfast was oatmeal and sliced peaches, a sprinkle of sesame seeds….
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Putting Baby to Bed Half-displaced, half lost, stumbling into the kitchen to brew coffee, eight o’clock, sleep reading the news on line, sleep driving the van to work, I’m practicing my new life without a body. The one I have…
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Power Lines Now when we look at the mountain, The gouge is almost all we see — what’s amiss, what’s gone wrong, like a beer can in a trout fresh stream, the crooked tooth in a smile, ears a mite…
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