• stopping by fenway on a chilly evening

    by  • April 16, 2016 • 4 Comments


    Last night, Ginger and I got to go to the Red Sox game, thanks to our friends Fez and Maggie. It was our first time in the park in five years. As I reflected on the train ride back today, I channelled Robert Frost. Stopping by Fenway on a Chilly Evening Whose house this...

    Read more →


    by  • April 14, 2016 • 5 Comments


    A pilgrimage is a journey set in a story. — Paul Elie, interview for On Being (as best I can remember the quote) narrative I love to tell the story says the old hymn— not I love to tell the doctrine; we do well to read in the beginning as another way of saying...

    Read more →

    prine time

    by  • April 13, 2016 • 5 Comments


    prine time the first time I saw John Prine we were both much younger he sang fish and whistle—you forgive us and we’ll forgive you—and then the one about the angel that I learned too the last time I saw him was the night before his cancer had returned and he sang for almost...

    Read more →


    by  • April 12, 2016 • 6 Comments

    Running on treadmill

    workout I started the day by going to the gym (things I rarely write for 400, Alex), wishing the process of lessening my presence on the planet did not involve rooms with pumped up jams and rows of televisions blasting morning shows. I came prepared with headphones and the podcast of a poet—Mary Oliver,...

    Read more →


    by  • April 11, 2016 • 4 Comments

    cocoa cinnamon

    I spent the first ten days of April back in Durham, doing some book things, some cookies business, and seeing good friends in a place that feels like home to me. In the process, I haven’t kept my promises to write each day during April. Here is my defense. wordless I know I’ve been...

    Read more →


    by  • April 4, 2016 • 2 Comments


    window the late afternoon light is the color of gratitude wouldn’t you say as the shadows grow longer and the coming chill pulls us closer what else is there but thank you Peace, Milton

    Read more →


    by  • April 3, 2016 • 4 Comments


    question It”s Opening Day . . . (well, the Red Sox start tomorrow) I have moved from coffee shop to brewery trying to catch the metaphor. Is it as simple as the pitcher misses the strike zone, the catcher misses the tag, and I miss my mother, who has been gone half a season...

    Read more →

    suspended animation

    by  • April 2, 2016 • 1 Comment

    free fall

    I had every intention of using National Poetry Writing Month as an impetus to keep me writing regularly during April, and then I spent the day traveling yesterday and missed Day One. So, I will begin my quest on Day Two. suspended animation I’m sitting at a shared table late on a Saturday morning...

    Read more →


    by  • March 28, 2016 • 2 Comments


    perspective the daffodils bow their heads in the early morning rain without explanation, on this day after resurrection. I am left to find resonance in both reverence of redemption and the weight of the water. the raindrops hang like tears on the window, or tiny jewels, depending on where I am. my coffee cup...

    Read more →

    lenten journal: still

    by  • March 26, 2016 • 5 Comments


    Because I have now lived through the death of both of my parents, I understand more of how the disciples might have felt after Jesus’s death and burial. One of the hardest things has been to mark time without them. The first morning. The first month. The first year, and then the second. I...

    Read more →