Apiary Aches

Bees love catnip; they go crazy for it; afterward, we drowsed, full of honeyed sweetness like the bees that browse the catnip, it could be like catnip to us, and I remember the first time my Siamese kitten had catnip,…

Bees love catnip; they go crazy for it; afterward, we drowsed, full of honeyed sweetness like the bees that browse the catnip, it could be like catnip to us, and I remember the first time my Siamese kitten had catnip,…

In the plaza, he pirouettes, juggling, glittering mysteries.

This did not have to happen. No, none of this had to happen.

Homely, lonely night. Venus shines against vacancy.He doesn’t paint the bars that keep him so far from starry night. Transfixed by stars. The tree grows, it is living. It is hopeful.And so is he. Not always so. Seldomly like that-ever.…

We, the silver birch. Villagers say we are The Three Sisters.

I start to think you stink
like Beowulf

I'd always been reluctant to teach online. And then I had to.

Editor of the Hudson Review

I think the joy comes out of my curiosity about the world

When I read, even my own work, I try to follow the line, its rhythms, its sounds, its inner voice