A Big Easy Sestina
Visiting the coast of the Gulf — it is humid,this I knew once & have kept, a dullstory I sometimes tell about a lost quarterof my life. You know how the past, like a trainthrough town mid-afternoon, misguideddespite its tracks, stops traffic, shears the undivided muddle into a neat impasse, each onlooker’s undividedattention face-forward, for once, squinting & humid& waiting… Read more →