Scraping away the barnacles — embracing contingency
At the beginning of every year I read the same book. A book Herman Melville called the, “. . . truest of all books.” A book Thomas Wolfe said was, “the highest ...
Month: January 2015
For Debbie, who married me–a poem, for her birthday
Home When we sat on the wooden bench in the eveningwith the scent of lavender pushing out over the strait,the pages of salt water turning at our feet,and I said...
For Nancy and the late wives of Namibian kings
It’s nothing I’ve done. Certainly I affect no dignified gate, wear no burgundy cloth, breath no rarefied air. But how I flutter when I consider all ...
A lunar life
A lunar life I wake at three with the half-moon bathing my face.I turn to it full-eyed, expectant, waitingfor its pale light to fill me with some new power. Whe...