the storm & afterwards

If I can remember anything, it is the sidewalk burning, burgeoning darkness over the river. The hushed rush to shelter, subway, awning, underneath anything that can protect from the oncoming onslaught. A few hesitant spurts, is that the condensation from the air conditioning units falling to the earth? No. A light wind has its way … More the storm & afterwards

the first death

I am so young that I can’t remember the world being anything other than enormous. The road from our apartment to the park winds too close to being a journey I can’t make on six-year-old feet. My father holds my hand as I balance on the curb. I must have walked so many miles that … More the first death

protect the goalie

We left the school at five in the morning, hauling hockey gear. It was hours to Pennsylvania, and we wanted to get there early. A full Greyhound bus with only eight high school boys, a tired coach and me. I tried to read. The boys played video games and gossiped about people I didn’t know. … More protect the goalie

my mother

Note: This seemed too personal to share at first, but you reconsider. xoxoxoxo ~acb … I ask her what it was like, but she only smiles. At last, she tells me that I chewed on her shirt when I was first born, that the nurse said, “Hey! That’s a shirt!”, that I tried to eat … More my mother

the greatest pain

The greatest pain was when I took a slap shot to the inside of my thigh, high and close to the inside. The bruise blotted first yellow, red veins beneath, then a mottled purple that grew as blue as my eyes. My body seemed to see itself for the first time, how much pain it … More the greatest pain

what they mean

There was a time when I wrote too much to know what I was writing. The same poems over and over again. Nothing much changes, over years, save the length of the sentence fragments and how they are arranged. When will the rhythm change, the same inflection and flatness masquerading as profundity. Perhaps this is … More what they mean

three dreams

A few dreams ago, I watched the dancers float in and out of the stage, a long dark canyon into fog. Rehearsing and misremembering, I watch children weep in white. Some float away into the rafters as they cry, buoyant by means not their own. Their tears stain the stage. I sop them up with … More three dreams