Our Flanders Field
For the British, the deaths in World War I struck hard. In that “war to end all wars,” some in British coastal towns could see the flare of mortars and hear the firing of guns in Belgian. In that war … Continued
For the British, the deaths in World War I struck hard. In that “war to end all wars,” some in British coastal towns could see the flare of mortars and hear the firing of guns in Belgian. In that war … Continued
When I was growing up in South Carolina–before contemporary civil rights, before Martin Luther King, Jr., before busing, white fight, and the recent police violence against black people in many U.S. cities–I lived in a block-long, castle-like fortress that was … Continued
Her tongue is warm and rhythmic. We’re sitting flank-to-flank on the back- deck bench, my hand on her back to keep her from sprinting off, though she shows no sign of wanting to because, instead, she’s laving my arm with … Continued
There was expectation to the evening, a low-level hum of overcast sky and awkward bird call. At first I was going to walk the neighborhood. But along the drive, shoots were being strangled in last year’s leaves. Pawing aside and … Continued
This morning in my usual way, I flung on a coat over my robe and went to the backyard, planning to spread seeds for the birds. There in the driveway where I’d been throwing handfuls of seeds all winter hunched … Continued
In the last week, the Christmas cactus by the computer has grown bright green shoots two and a half inches long. The light is changing, lengthening, and the wind is whirling. Long sticks of trees across the street sway like … Continued
First, it’s an island at the end of a chain of islands called the Florida Keys. Key stands for Cay, which I think is Spanish or Meso-American meaning small island. Second, and here you can imagine me actually speaking to … Continued
This line from the French poet Baudelaire (1857) is one of my favorite resorts to describe wafting on warmth and joy. All is ease–luxe, calme. All is indulgence–volupte. It’s rare to feel such untroubled ease in the midst of a … Continued
The Russians are particularly good at this–an upwelling of tears at the turn of a head or sliding into a car. Today’s snow and high clouds make me think of a Chekhov troika pausing in a stand of thin trees … Continued
Though I supposed myself a serious graduate student, studying 19th-Century American Literature at Columbia, it now comes clear that I took away only one snippet from what that century had to offer–Emily Dickinson brief remark: A little bird walked down … Continued