Sixteen Paris Crossings or Art in the Time of Crisis
When the Museum of Fine Arts re-opened in February, I went directly to Gallery 232 in the Art of the Americas to see The...
Me, My Father, and The Persian Rug
I was at my sister’s house and received two phone calls from my father urging me to come right away. My chest was warm...
White Hair
My mother's hair is white. Bright white, like the inside of a mussel shell, iridescent. Fine lines on a pink scalp. But only for...
Tasseography
I don’t believe in psychics, but I might owe something to one.
Before my mother was born, my grandmother Jo had her fortune told by...
Letter to the Future
Soojin texted bright and early, hoping to gather Alexis and me for prep. It was time for our close-up: two international adoptees back in...
Shelter in Place
The family is the chosen unit of measurement for so many things. During the pandemic, we were instructed to shelter in place, and this...
How to Ruin Your Morning
Wake up knowing you have to go to work today. No. It's the NowTimes. So no one has to GO anywhere. You are someone,...
Pocha
My friend, Leticia, is in the middle of telling me a funny story in the Spanglish we often speak together. We’re on an escalator...
An American Alphabet*
*Or more aptly titled, A White American Alphabet--26 Letters Towards A Language of Repair.
A is for the Allen residence.
The Allen residence is where Wendell...
My First Reading, St. Mark’s Poetry Project, 1975
I gave my first major public poetry reading in June 1975. It was the St. Mark’s Poetry Project annual workshop reading. All of the...
Love in the Time of COVID: Have Our Lives Changed Forever?...
Our little mid-century ranch, with its limestone exterior and big picture window, sits clustered together with other mid-century homes—tri-levels and A-frames—in a neighborhood that...
How I Became Greta and Alan
For an absolute stranger, Bob Coyne calls a lot. Over the past two years or so he has called at least once and sometimes...