Painting an Old House

The places where paint chipped
I glimpse the wood,
the grain a confession
of wood’s true nature
as if, palms proffered,
it means to convince me—
“I’m holding nothing.”
I’m holding the brush,
which pushes a bead of paint
over the gap. This white is
the sort of silence
perfect from a distance,
a way to do things,
preserving by covering up.
Sometimes I can separate layers,
all the [...]

Descriptive as Hell

I‘m teaching summer school right now, leading some rising freshmen through their summer reading while helping them learn some of the essential skills they’ll need in English in the fall. As is my custom, I’ve also been doing some assignments with them, including one described in this prompt on The Catcher in the Rye:
Stradlater’s [...]

Landmark

A two-track dirt road
ran beneath electrical towers
near Queen of Peace. The buzz
could have been God or insects
gathering for reasons
we couldn’t be told. Our bikes
steered themselves there
because every circle
was tangent to their lines.
Where they came from
or where they were going,
every origin and destination,
tussled in their interference.
Under their widespread arms,
we kissed for the first time—
eyes closing [...]

King Ego, Part 78

At the end of her memoir Black Ice, Lorene Carey recalls sitting through commencement and awards as one of the first African-American graduates of St. Paul’s and wondering whether she would receive an award, whether she would do any more than simply graduate.
She feels a “greedy girl” roiling inside her and silently asks when [...]

There it is, Eeyore

I remember few conversations from when I was young, but I recall my mother equating each of my brothers and sisters with Winnie the Pooh characters. She seemed to know the character for me right away… but paused before saying “Eeyore.”
Maybe she meant to preserve my feelings. A reader might remember Eeyore by his [...]

Abstracting Abstraction

If I could say it in words there would be no reason to paint. - Edward Hopper
Last week, I visited the Art Institute of Chicago to see the Edward Hopper show. I’ve long admired Hopper’s paintings. His city scenes exude narrative mystery, and even his Gloucester homes and Maine [...]

Haiku Sonnet: 99

Imagine a chit
given after each act—red
for compassion, gray
for doubt, ochre for
expected cowardice and
yellow for surprise.
I’ve stuffed a strongbox—
the slot no longer invites
any addition.
The uncounted days
elude what’s known. Paper takes
the updraft—drifting
confetti unsettled long
after marchers pass on.

Meme Guilt

I wish I were a better sport about memes. The tasks are interesting—even if they’re challenging—and I like reading other participants’ responses. Plus, memes are blogosphere-specific. I approve of anything calving posts from other sorts of writing.
But the meme I received from G at How To Survive Suburban Life [...]

AKA Joe Felso

Oh so many years ago, I saw a Labor Day Parade in New York City or, I should say, some friends and I happened upon it. Labor Day festivities may be different now, but that parade seemed half-hearted, a few marching bands and workmen walking behind alphabet soup banners or waving distractedly from crepe-papered [...]

In Memoriam: Liam Rector

I’ve spent the last two hours trying to write something about Liam Rector, who committed suicide last week. A poet and the director of the Bennington Writing Seminar, Liam was my teacher during my final semester at Bennington when I prepared my thesis manuscript and graduate lecture.
I’ve struggled, however, [...]