Features

Wabi Sabi

侘寂 

 

To love a thing

whose demise

you can foresee:

a swallow flying

through a windstorm, 

a teapot cracked.

 

A lopsided house,

stone roof off

center, leftmost stilts

sinking. Inside,

a couple

stacking bowls

in downward-sloping

cupboards, sleeping

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Cloud Study

Clouds, come down to sleep in the treetops— 

if you’ve seen the pines’ wide boughs 

 

cradle the snow, even from a distance, 

you know they can hold you. Or float 

 

yourself into a roofless, falling-down barn 

and lie

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The Pool

The MacEvoys had the pool dug out of their backyard in April of 1983. For three straight Saturdays in March, Bob Cobb and Dan Gray and Lee MacEvoy, in dungarees and sweatshirts, put their backs into saws and shovels and …

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Stamp Fever

Father’s latest gift to his 14-year-old son was in a box on which was printed THE GOLDEN GALLEON OF STAMPS, a cornucopia that guaranteed more than a thousand stamps from around the world. And accompanying it, an album, every …

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Fault Line

I drag myself from bed with a magazine of white smiles clamped beneath my elbow, and I’m almost alive in the ruined hallway. Mold dots the floorboards; the ceiling’s splotched gray from water leakage—It’s old markings, our landlord …

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Of Yalta

Sure, it’s all Chekhov this and Chekhov that,

and I am far from the only one 

to keep myself up at night

thinking about his gun, 

 

but the man was a dreamboat,

gray eyes and smirking beard

and

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