The Rock That is Not a Rabbit : Poems

Change arises as something both desired and mourned in poems that reckon with a world where perspectives blur, names drift “billowing, unattached,” and language yields a broken music.

A statue of Lenin topples in a Georgian square only to be raised again in a Dallas backyard.

Antlers sprout from Actaeon’s head, rendering him unrecognizable to the dogs he loves.

Ungainly piano notes pour from a window and wake unexpected wonder in a lost walker.

A forest grows inside a box that once held a father’s new pair of shoes.

Skylab slips from its watchful orbit and careens toward Earth.

A familiar chair once owned by a now absent family appears in a field of wild parsnips.

Meditative and richly imaginative, these poems cast and recast the self and its relation to other selves, and to memory, history, power, and the natural world.