Evenings, as the sun sank into darkness and the unfurling Atlantic ocean tossed foam carelessly upon the sand, sadly depositing the detritus of life; entangled seaweed and rotting wood; I would think of my home in Indiana. The Costa del Luz is unlike these fields in Indiana where the corn rattles in the late summer […]

[This isn’t a sestina, but it started life as one. It, as the title suggests, escaped the form.] Khaled reads a poem in which there is mention of train tracks. Later, in the evening air, I will imagine the farm land of the mid-west furrowed and grizzled, lying on its back, trying on a new […]

This is a shakedown; I’m shaking out everything I know; Where have you gone, Joe DiMaggio? Forget that! Where’s Cummings? Gone. Dead. Buried – the last good sense slipped out of a breast pocket on the way to his grave. Don’t look so grim — the world’s not that grave. It’s a pleasure dome not […]

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