Poem: American Journal

[American Journal] Robert Hayden, 1913 – 1980 here among them the americans this baffling multi people        extremes and variegations        their noise  restlessness        their almost frightening energy        how best describe these aliens in my reports to...
Poem: The Trees, Philip Larkin

Poem: The Trees, Philip Larkin

(used as the epigraph in my novel The Eagle Tree) The Trees Philip Larkin The trees are coming into leaf Like something almost being said; The recent buds relax and spread, Their greenness is a kind of grief. Is it that they are born again And we grow old? No, they...
The Writing Sings

The Writing Sings

“This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety....

Poem: Night In The Gardens Of Port Of Spain

Night In The Gardens Of Port Of Spain Derek Walcott     Night, the black summer, simplifies her smells into a village; she assumes the impenetrable musk of the negro, grows secret as sweat, her alleys odorous with shucked oyster shells, coals of gold oranges, braziers...

Poem: Forgotten

A Final word The note in my pocket says, politicize my death. Rip me out of passive tense the way I was from this place: with a bang. Executions don’t just happen. See how complicit you are. Show me you’ve learned something. Pay attention, it says, to the...