Thousand Islands

the 401’s for robo-sharks: constant exits into flat cornfields with occasional Tim Horton’s hidden in an eddy. A stagnant stream with a median strip, max 100 km/h, plus provincial police…

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The Last Linzertorte (for Susanne Naegele)

by the time we had bitten (into) it, you were already gone: as dusty as pastry flour now, that so often stuck to your skirt. A swan song crust, flown…

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The Goddess of the Fire (this time)

She begins with the Business Section, crumpling The heads of corporations into their flammable Numbers. She makes a pile of these. Then she becomes an architect of kindling, stacking the…

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Cousin Jonathan Squints Southward

When September Sun crosses the crosswalk at State & Center and through my south-faced screen -I know it must be the 21st. Dodging between turning maples, glancing off the deli’s…

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Combine-nation

kind-of-backward, running from my baking shift down to the farmer’s in Easthampton. Harvesting the winter wheat today, down by the Manhan River. Bottom- land -so bottom spots got flooded out…

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St Dominic’s Preview

the Pope’s loss is my gain, it seems: this old dough mixer pulled out of a boarded-up church (St-Dominic’s) up on State Street in Portland. I imagine a 40-year apprenticeship…

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Re-Building in the Battery

a year and a half since the buildings fell and here we are re-building the whole thing (in 10 minutes or less) inside a jazz club in Boston. Not a…

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Song of Spanning (Coolidge)

Stuck again on Calvin’s ever- widening bridge to nowhere the motor idling, the radio moaning, the bumper in front of me extolling car-less ideals that fade and jade in a…

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