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No Pain So Great as Memory

I’ll leave a trail of crumbs as I descend into god knows where.

October Phone Call and Other Poems

How many gods do you believe in? How many good men?

Of God and His Enemies

Logic is such an elegant weapon; and religion, such an easy target.

On Livelihood

“I always arrive late at the office, but I make up for it by leaving early.”

Operation Iraqi Freedom

It was enough to make the most hardened veteran drop his guard.

Order, Discipline, and Decorum

I broke up fights, bandaged cuts, fielded calls from parents, and sat with the sad or depressed.

Pale Blue Vein

It could be our baby. Her eyebrow, its perfect arc, the pale blue vein.

Partition

The fog’s sheen is a mirror: my mother sees the terrain of the future—

Passing and Other Poems

You can tell by the walls whoever lives here doesn’t want to be seen.

Picnic Point

The fish’s eye is mangled, tugged inward; blood leaks from its gills.

Reading Rilke and Other Poems

The men here don’t know where to place me, call me exotic grail.

Refinement

For a moment I had the delicious feeling of fitting in without even trying.

Reflections on Newtown: No Safe Place

If it were fiction, calling the place Newtown would be too much.

Requiem

If angels were made of music, surely they would vanish.

Rise the Euphrates

Rise the Euphrates, my first novel, grew out of a feverish dream.

Rounds

Brassy bullets fell against the floral comforter like little candies.

Sad Little Outlaw

I was always being left behind in the mud, a bandage around my eyes.

Samaritan

Throwing the El Camino into drive, he roared down the mountain road.

Say Something about Child’s Play

Like a bird with a broken wing I will smudge the line of the hopscotch.

Self-Portrait With & Without

You have to be three times better than the white kids, at everything.

Senior Spring

I saw myself, and for the first time, I didn’t look away.

Senior-Year Psychology

The sex in these fantasies was always a product of love.

Shelf Space

I read cookbooks the way I do poetry, with a willingness to be transported.

Shirley Hazzard

We have mysterious inclinations. No one can explain it to us.

Shuttle Diplomacy

Her appearances are fleeting, a gust of air, a murmur in the night.

Sin Vergüenza

He felt desperate for the rains, mosquitoes be damned.

Slope

In school, he was called gook, chink, and one boy called him ching-chong.

Society

Society was imposing, like something out of an English drama.

Something Left Behind

On this small island, everyone knows who comes, especially who goes.

Sometimes Only the Sad Songs Will Do

You might say I acted on instinct. All I wanted was to stop the screaming.