Letter to My Country Doctor Father

You taught me to accept whatever came to the door: a bushel of corn, two porterhouse steaks, a bag of bittersweet horehound candy—your favorite—and the suffering that each of us carry, sometimes nearly hidden, except for something about the eyes. How heavy this homemade lemon pie, with its mountains upon mountains of meringue.

More In: Chronicles

Preppy Haircut | Zocalo Public Square • Arizona State University • Smithsonian

Preppy Haircut

Anyway, my band Preppy Haircut.
Venue asked what time we could loden.
I said anytime but I prefer hunter.
Assuming we’re all wearing khakis.
They said no this is for …

The Andromeda Strain | Zocalo Public Square • Arizona State University • Smithsonian

The Andromeda Strain

There’s nothing more American than blaming empty space for a giant virus of its own making. Curiosity killed the clotted doctor, and kindness the rest. Really, it’s always …

Vision | Zocalo Public Square • Arizona State University • Smithsonian

Vision

[Excerpt from The Grief Contest.]

 

Bone shade: the hip and pelvis
against dusk,

my arthritic spine, the blurring
lines between skeletal structures,

the invisible ray passes
through my soft tissue

the x-ray was an …