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Ghazal in the Year of Corona

What can I do to stay clear of Corona? How can I not draw too near to Corona?   Praying that someday we’ll all meet again And not...

How to Make a No-Sew Coronavirus Mask From a Poem*

After you've read this poem, place it on your kitchen table From the top of the poem, fold down a flap of your fear; from...

Into Love

Every kiss that was ever kissed— every smile, every baby’s delight, a first step, a face that hides and comes back, a belly laugh—   every morning of gladness, gladness,...

“Find Everything You’re Looking For?”

Despite the naysayers among my family and friends, I decided to see what was happening in retail. I’d always wanted to sell things when I was a kid. Must be the money––people hand over money to the seller. Who wouldn’t want that?

Widow

God, You carry this device in my chest called   love &  I - a child of  infertility - choose you to  sterilize  the left testicle  of ...

I’m Trying to be a Person

I’m Trying to be a Person on whom nothing is lost. I have ruined several custards with scalding impatience.             Not...

Clueless Jogger Manifesto in the Age of Social Distancing

I am a jogger, an outside-only jogger. Outside I am moving so quickly that I cannot calculate six feet between myself and slowpokes who walk. I keep moving. I am a moving missile, rocket flying horizontal.

Your Fire and Thunder

Dr. Li Wenliang, who was the first to sound the alarm on the outbreak of the pandemic, died in Wuhan a year ago, on...

Farmer’s Market in Pandemic

The Saturday rite is now a drive-by: we’re all laid back in our masks awaiting our turn. The line stretches far down the street; no one expects to...

Pandemics and Pasta: Sustenance in the Viral Age

Tonight, I am roasting ripe Heirloom tomatoes with onions, garlic, and olive oil in a 400-degree-oven while a blend of mushrooms, garlic, and white...

Intensive Care

No figures here but pulse, breath and pressure; no metonymy of fate but a real hand cold upon a real sheet. What could any actor speak more...

Song at the End of the Mind

I think of you as a radio frequency— sometimes hard to find   as I touch the illuminated dial. But tonight you arrive   murmuring into my ear in halfsleep;   you...