Category: poetry

Reading Brecht in Berlin

The tattered cord can again become knotted. It holds but it is torn. Perhaps we’ll face each other again but there, where you left me, you’ll not meet me again. I’ve been in Berlin long enough to start reading Brecht for pleasure, although not in the original German.

Call of the Wild

Subaru in the snow, a photo by RaeAllen on Flickr. Have you gazed on naked grandeur where there’s nothing else to gaze on, Set pieces and drop-curtain scenes galore, Big mountains heaved to heaven, which the blinding sunsets blazon, Black canyons where the rapids rip and roar? Have you swept the visioned valley with the […]

It Ain’t What You Do, It’s What It Does To You

I have not bummed across America with only a dollar to spare, one pair of busted Levi’s and a bowie knife. I have lived with thieves in Manchester. I have not padded through the Taj Mahal, barefoot, listening to the space between each footfall picking up and putting down its print against the marble floor. […]