#AmericanWriters
We were alone one night on a long road in Montana. This was in wint… night, far to the stars. We had hi… my wife and I, and left our ride a… a crossing to go on. Tired and col…
I put my foot in cold water and hold it there: early mornings they had to wade through broken ic… to find the traps in the deep chan… with their hands, drag up the chai…
Once in Mexico an old man was leading on a string—was it a cat? And we saw it was a tarantula sidling along in the dust, writing a message from God for people who
Wisdom is having things right in y… and knowing why. If you do not have things right in… you will be overwhelmed: you may be heroic, but you will no…
If you don’t know the kind of pers… and I don’t know the kind of perso… a pattern that others made may pre… and following the wrong god home w… For there is many a small betrayal…
When we first moved here, pulled the trees in around us, curled our backs to the wind, no one had ever hit the moon—no one. Now our trees are safer than the s…
Your exact errors make a music that nobody hears. Your straying feet find the great… walking alone. And you live on a world where stum…
Whispering to each handhold, “I’l… I go up the cliff in the dark. On… I loosen a rock and listen a long… till it hits, faint in the gulf, b… of the torrent almost drowns it ou…
I let history happen – sorry. When Muslims and Christians fought in the Crusades, I didn’t stop it; the Egyptians and Jews clashed and my efforts were not sufficient to prevent that. Re...
The light by the barn that shines… pales at dawn when a little breeze… A little breeze comes breathing th… from their sleep and waking the sl… The slow windmill sings the long d…
There’s a thread you follow. It g… things that change. But it doesn’t… People wonder about what you are p… You have to explain about the thre… But it is hard for others to see.
Today outside your prison I stand and rattle my walking stick: Priso… you have relatives outside. And th… thousands of ways to escape. Years ago I bent my skill to keep…
Ours are the streets where Bess f… cancer. She went to work every day… secure houses. At her job in the l… she arranged better and better flo… students asked for books her hand…
Fog in the morning here will make some of the world far aw… and the near only a hint. But rain will feel its blind progress along… tapping to convert one boulder at…
The well rising without sound, the spring on a hillside, the plowshare brimming through dee… everywhere in the field— The sharp swallows in their swerve