I was looking for an older, American poem about Division Street I read long ago and found this 2008 piece by Helen Mort. You brought me here to break it off one muggy Tuesday. A brewing storm, the pigeons sleek with rain. My black umbrella flexed its wings. Damp-skinned, I made for the crush of … More Division Street
This month I have been in San Francisco and New Orleans. I am in Chicago now, confident, industrial and a really big city, and I will be in Houston next weekend. I am having a spectacular U.S. tour and I had not planned on this. Cincinnatti is next, but that is in June. When I … More Sweet Home Chicago
Anytime I go anywhere, I fall in love and want to move there. Last weekend I was in western Marin County, in California. Now I am in New Orleans. You should look at some of these books. I will be in Chicago next, which I like as well — will I fall in love with … More Dreamy City
…upon picking up my mother’s body the other night: One to the other: This is a lot easier. To me: It is a lot easier because it is an old person who has died at home. The last person we picked up was a 17 year old suicide. Axé.
I am formed by natural scenery. People ask why I am calm and it is because I have in the back of my mind the row of high volcanoes on view behind me, the redwood path down which I am making my way, the ocean rushing up to me with its salt. Academics say you … More Formatif: la nature
Here in Maringouin I have given up most recreation because it is an obligation and a chore — the available activities are mildly interesting once, but not more, and it is de rigueur to enjoy them, so they are de facto work. I cannot afford to be in New Orleans enough, so I do not get … More Newcomb pottery of New Orleans
One of the more exhausting aspects of having my mother die is having to explain again and again to people that my father is not moving to Central Time, and justifying that. He likes it where he lives and prefers living in his town over moving to unknown and uncomfortable towns just because his children … More Coldhearted 2
He almorzado solo ahora, y no he tenido madre, ni súplica, ni sírvete, ni agua, ni padre que, en el facundo ofertorio de los choclos, pregunte para su tardanza de imagen, por los broches mayores del sonido. Cómo iba yo a almorzar. Cómo me iba a servir de tales platos distantes esas cosas, cuando habráse … More Trilce XXVIII
Axé.
In the first place, it is not necessarily easy to get the deceased’s eyes closed. The eyelids resist. In the second place, I had been informed one should sing for the dying. This seemed to work but I did not have songs prepared ahead, so we had Corrocloclo and a traditional nana. Yo no siento … More On death: a field report.
