1992 1) I was born in a Free City, nea… 2) In the year of my birth, money… confetti. A loaf of bread cost a m… course I do not remember this.

The moon lies on the river like a drop of oil. The children come to the banks to… of their wounds and bruises. The fathers who gave them their wo…

Such insignificance: a glance at your record on the doctor’s des… or a letter not meant for you. How could you have known? It’s no… that your life passes before you

When the moon was full they came t… some with pitchforks, some with ra… some with sieves and ladles, and one with a silver cup. And they fished til a traveler pas…

For Linda Foster Because we used to have leaves and on damp days our muscles feel a tug, painful now, from when roots

The laughter of women sets fire to the Halls of Injustice and the false evidence burns to a beautiful white lightness It rattles the Chambers of Congre…

Our trees are aspens, but people mistake them for birches; they think of us as characters in a Russian novel, Kitty and Lev… living contentedly in the country.

Sometimes, when the light strikes… and pulls you back into childhood and you are passing a crumbling ma… completely hidden behind old willo… or an empty convent guarded by hem…

This is not fantasy, this is our l… We are the characters who have invaded the moon, who cannot stop their computers. We are the gods who can unmake

In 1936, a child in Hitler’s Germany, what did I know about the war in… Andalusia was a tango on a wind-up gramophone,

If an inaudible whistle blown between our lips can send him home to us, then silence is perhaps the sound of spiders breathing

Who is that man in black, walking away from us into the distance? The painter, they say, took a long… finding his vision of the world. The mermaids, if that is what they…

For Lucy, who called them “ghost… Someone was always leaving and never coming back. The wooden houses wait like old wi… along this road; they are everywhe…

What happened is, we grew lonely living among the things, so we gave the clock a face, the chair a back, the table four stout legs

Speaking of marvels, I am alive together with you, when I might ha… alive with anyone under the sun, when I might have been Abelard’s… or the whore of a Renaissance pope