Issue: 2026

Footsteps in the sand fade fast As the tide rises and the ocean breeze Pushes and pulls the waves.  The sun has long  since set, leaving  the sky streaked  with colors That bleed into the velvety night Grasses on windswept dunes tremble and Make a dry … Continue Reading

To know that you, of all people, feel the need to tell me that I am a failure in all that I do, in all that I am, has been the deepest disappointment of my life. I struggle, day after day with myself, inside and out, because someone taught me that I wa … Continue Reading

The night is me  the moon is me  her light her crests her spoons are me The bog is me  the marsh is me  their rot and smell and salt is me The storm is me  its calm is me  the lightning out at sea is me The beach is me  her slope is me  the tide her fo … Continue Reading

 —with thanks to  Dickinson and Hubbell Echoes reverberate among trees. Heavy air recalls the shouts of uniformed men. Hills remember as soldiers sink into the body of the earth. It depends on who asks the questions—answers change in different slants o … Continue Reading

We still look up  every time an airplane flies overhead  because it no longer means the same thing. Two days after the attacks  I walk through midtown Manhattan for the first time.  I have not left my apartment  except to buy food in my neighborhood. N … Continue Reading

All the mothers did it. Every morning in the car husbands and wives driving to the train station, 6:17 a.m. Fords and Chevys lining up around the U-shaped curve husbands stepping out of cars and onto double-decker train, Tribune news in hand, chugging … Continue Reading