One sun rose on us today, kindled over our shores, peeking over the Smokies, greeting the faces of the Great Lakes, spreading a simple truth across the Great Plains, then charging across the Rockies. One light, waking up rooftops, under each one, a story told by our silent gestures moving behind windows. My face, your … Continue reading One Today, Richard Blanco: Inauguration poem
Claw-footed Tub, Joe Enzweiler [The play button doesn’t seem to work for this — click on the blue link.]
And then I will confess everything with a pencil in my hand and a scrap of cheap paper on the table in front of me. This is how you do it, the books tell me. Beg all the words out onto a page. The cheap paper has thin blue lines on it to show me … Continue reading And then I will confess
Just published: a September « a night kitchen.