Stray paragraphs in February, year of the rat
Stray paragraphs in April, year of the rat
A bad memory makes you a metaphysician, a good one makes you a saint
Thinking about the poet Larry Levis one afternoon in late May
In the kingdom of the past, the brown-eyed man is king
Passing the morning under the Serenissima
In the Valley of the Magra
Returned to the Yaak cabin, I overhear an old Greek song
All landscape is abstract, and tends to repeat itself
What do you write about, where do your ideas come from?
The Appalachian book of the dead II
Autumn's sidereal, November's a ball and chain
Giorgio Morandi and the talking eternity blues
"It's turtles all the way down"
The Appalachian book of the dead III
"When you're lost in Juarez, in the rain, and it's Eastertime too"
The Appalachian book of the dead IV
Early Saturday afternoon, early evening
"The Holy Ghost asketh for us with mourning and weeping unspeakable"
The Appalachian book of the dead V
After reading Tao Ching, I wander untethered through the short grass
Remembering Spello, sitting outside in Prampolini's garden
After rereading Robert Graves, I go outside to get my head together
The Appalachian book of the dead VI
Landscape as metaphor, landscape as fate and a happy life