We spent yesterday driving from the Connecticut River Valley to Lowell, Massachusetts. Glorious day, clouds drawn by addled cloud chasers, plenty of leaf peeping colors still flying around, good company, good conversation, a quick survey of which reveals: what constitutes... Continue reading

Corwin Ericson's broken bottles, Wendell, Massachusetts The City of New Orleans is a train. Like all well-behaved American trains it zips by backyards, left-over warehouses and parking lots, drainage ditchbanks and assorted boarded-up buildings. You're sometimes frightened you might see... Continue reading

Indicative of a caution to do a little thinking before writing? Maybe. Indicating low grade institutional paranoia. Definitely. (who put these there? who knows) Evidence of unsettling canine adoration. Possibly. Further evidence. Evidence of poetry's whereabouts. Handsome. We arrived at... Continue reading

These, I suppose, two Candadians, have been watching me for many years. They're in a painting James Tate and I found on a trans-Canadian road trip. We don't know who they are, or why they're sitting in a field in... Continue reading