OTHER WRITING

  • Still Life: Hopewell, New Jersey

    A poem published in The Quarterly, Spring 1993

    Edward Hopper could have painted
    this closed diner with empty
    chairs and tables and behind
    its counter, the things that make
    a diner work: soft drink
    fountain, blenders, silver
    nozzles and yank handles
    cleaned and shiny
    in the streetlamp light.

  • Shadows Across Frosted Glass

    A translation of Juan José Saer published in Words Without Borders, April 2008

    Time is so complicated, yet so simple! Now I'm in the living room sitting in the rocking chair, and I can see Leopoldo's shadow in the bathroom while he begins to undress. It seems so simple to think about right now, but when I face the expanse of that now, I immediately realize how weak memory really is. Memory is a tiny little part of every now, and all the rest of that now is nothing but memory's illusion—darting and fleeting too quickly to ever really grab hold of. Take, for example, my right breast.