DiaBLOGue

Homesteaders

I’ll take your thigh road,
so rugged, overgrown,

that you and I can build upon each other
here, in our bed,

Nantucket Sound

The day is overcast.
Our boat drenched with dew.

We shove off
and glide with the current,

Vanished

A city, full up to the brim with light,
stood on a hill. It overlooked a valley
of shadow, death, and longing. Then, one day,
the raging radiance began to spill

Sun Maker

Let there be light, the goddess shouted
when she struck up the match
and pressed its flame onto a patch
of wiggling hydrogen. Flares spouted

Her

The holiest things are always veiled:

sealed sections of holy writ
sacramental emblems
holy of holies
Her

From Downstream

Whatever landscape a child is exposed to early on, that will be the sort of gauze through which he or she will see all the world afterward.—Wallace Stegner They must have had names. To us…

Strait is the Way

Listen to an interview about this piece here. I wish I had stopped my mom from talking to the hardcore punk band at that rest stop in western PA. I will stop my mom from…