This morning is an Elizabeth Bishop morning. I had forgotten her voice, soft and intelligent.† I had forgotten the cadence, the colors muted but moving.† The art of losing — that was her art.
I read the dates on the cover of the complete poems and wonder what happened in 1979 after she wrote her [...]

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When they traveled to Spain, they always stayed at the same hotel.† Not because the accommodation was particularly comfortable — it was cramped, though clean; breakfast for additional payment at the little restaurant in the basement.† It was in a neighborhood off to the side of the city center that sometimes seemed dangerous, but only [...]

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It is unclear what one is supposed to do when one is happy. Aside from jumping up and down in the middle of the street, or singing. Sometimes I do both.
I feel useful this week, and smarter than usual. Who is it I remember saying that? Some director, a girl. [...]

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Much in the same way that running into someone you used to know but haven’t thought to call requires an awkward reacquaintance, I find myself at a loss for words. I imagine that we have run into each other in the street, you and I, and went out for coffee. I tell you [...]

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