Months ago, after a meeting, I asked a woman to celebrate her 12 year anniversary over pie and coffee with me. Alcoholics do a lot of that, pie and coffee. I asked her how it’s has been. What does 12 years sober mean? Well, she said: For a while I was just happy to wake …
The earth tilts, the angle of the sun has shifted, and everything leans toward winter. We’ve entered the time of adding on clothes, of wool and flannels and coarsening skin. Meanwhile, I have the distinct impression I am naked in the world. This is exactly why people fear change. Naked is very near to being …
There are hundreds of poems I’ve half written in my life. Poems I later destroyed, gave up on, or simply forgot. I don’t know how other poets work, nor much about other people’s brains. I am curious, mine seeming at times so crazy. I guess I’ll never know. In my brain, sobering, the old poems …
