Lingering, longing at dawn In a mountain town whose name I’ve forgotten, about fifty miles from Marrakech, I remembered an old woman sitting alone in a field. She had lost her home.Read More
To discover that which was believed lost I thought it was gone. I thought it had left me or I had left it somewhere in the street, in a cabinet, inside the grocery store, at the gas station. The arguments were depleting, had become idiotic, fantasy. Read More
Where poems may exist, now In the building across from mine, inside the top-center window, an American flag hangs vertically. I see it every day, every morning. My desk faces it. I face it. Read More
On Influence: Robert Hayden in Dakar After having a conversation about a novel I’ve since forgotten, my undergraduate literature professor at the University of Michigan gave me a paperback copy of Robert Hayden’s Collected Poems. Read More
