Category Archives: Summer

My History in Parts

We took your mother’s car. (Pushed) through bramble across mud and rocks. It ends in a stainless steel kitchen, still slick from high tide. Nothing swallows the hunger, (or ever does) bite through a fence. The outline of an overpass, … Continue reading

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Down the Hudson

There are a thousand ways To stop a train. I want to unpack There are a lot of things I want. This morning fog clung to the darkest parts Of the Catskills while I dressed In the same clothes I … Continue reading

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The last few days. @thecutl3rs

It is raining again in Vienna. I took a late afternoon shower, and yelled my song above both rains. Some places feel more like home if you yell, or read, or eat alone. I’ve never considered myself lucky. Not like … Continue reading

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And on the seventh day, God built me a castle.

It is raining on the sabbath, so I wake up slow as God intended. I’ve been reading East of Eden and Rilke’s New Poems, so that German and English can build a city together in me. I make promises less … Continue reading

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Open Letter to Adrian.

When we landed and commuted, and finally entered through the front door on cobblestone, into a courtyard lit from afternoon sun, flowers overflowing from terracotta pots on the stairs, I thought of you. When little Kathi walked toward us holding … Continue reading

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What the Road Wakes #ontheroad #summertime

I haven’t forgotten, but I’d be lying if I said I remembered right away. It was confusing. I remember that. And now, after thinking, I remember the police and wondering what you were so afraid of. I always want to … Continue reading

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Ohio

Ohio has a coastline that snakes thinner than its five lane highways. I had no idea. The houses are square, two stories, peaked roofs, close together as teeth with full green trees gumming between them. The airport is clean and … Continue reading

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Being Mono

I am tired of being mono. This tired again and again and the slow low buzz of an outgoing call that never made it to the receiver. It’s called the kissing disease but that was back in college when drinks … Continue reading

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Eulogy.

I have woken up with the sun underneath me. The walls of my room are red brick. In the beginning static of summer air ripe with storm, I wait for a vision in Philly. Who will write my eulogy? I … Continue reading

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Arrival.

The rest of the ride was in silence. Except for the occasional shift of my bag. And then the french woman behind me took a call. I imagined it was a happy occasion, her voice was soft and her breathing … Continue reading

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