It’s the way I pause when I come across Goethe andwhisper the name—Gir-tah.To make sure I still remember how it’s supposed to sound on the tongue. To remind myself it does not feel how it looks. […]
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It’s the way I pause when I come across Goethe andwhisper the name—Gir-tah.To make sure I still remember how it’s supposed to sound on the tongue. To remind myself it does not feel how it looks. […]
Read moreWaiting for a chicken leg to broilI near the end of a chapter of Eco’s bookThe Name of the Rose.In my pocket is a timer ticking off the secondsAnd I […]
Read moreI sit and I stare, trying to peerinto the back of my beautiful sons’ eyesbecause I am looking for somethingthat I soon begin to realize,I may not be quite ready […]
Read moreTom Blethen faced two fifty foot rows of potatoes. He looked up at the December sky. It had rained, the field was all muddy, and it was going to rain again. […]
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