In the transit lounge of an unnameable airport, I see the fake leaves blowing in the... Read more →

From the shore Jack looked onward to the horizon, hand in hand with his beloved, seeing... Read more →

There’s a young playwright in town whose name you would do well to remember. It is... Read more →

It is axiomatic, if clichéd, that to be an adolescent is to be rebellious, is to... Read more →

On my uncle’s desk in his apartment in Berlin there is a rusty rail nail from a sleeper... Read more →

I first encountered the Greeks like everyone else. This was not as a text that was... Read more →

It was dark. It always was dark, in the Americas, in Oceania, in Africa, in Asia, even in... Read more →

A poet needs to have some sort of constraint – many constrain their voice aiming for... Read more →

I was a historian before I was a poet. Or to put it better, I was trained as a historian... Read more →

The first book I ever wrote I put in a drawer and forgot about it. I did the same with... Read more →