Archive

Thanks for playing. Here’s your consolation prize:a mountain capped with fog, the sun behind throwing light circumspectly on a lake, the waya painter lights a lovely face from out...

On feet bare like a desert saint’s, it padsacross the porch and toward the dry cat foodmy wife pours out for strays. It doesn’t scarewhen I stomp, bellow, toss...

In The Republic, Plato’s Socrates tells of a man who lives with a beast. The beast is demanding, and the man must cater to its whims. Soon, the man...

My father stopped at every one of them,A need to know that drove us nuts and slowedOur progress toward the lake. We stood in sweat,Lurking like hitchers by the...

A textbook I use for my introductory poetry classes, the classic Western Wind, defines sentimentality as “emotion in excess of its object.” Sentimentality is not simply too much emotion,...