by phoenix | Aug 30, 2011 | Poetry
For Brian Widdows, Jaime’s daughter Kaya and Ceredwyn and Keith’s cousin There is an infinite sadness in certain acts that cannot be escaped and tonight I grapple with the trifecta: A murder, a suicide, the death of a baby moments before it...
by phoenix | Nov 12, 2010 | Personal, Travel
In October, we went to the US on what Doug called the Tour de Harper. The timing was partly to make it to my cousin David’s wedding to the ever awesome Rachel and partly to get in before Harper’s plane ticket actually cost money. We ended up on nine planes in...
by phoenix | Aug 15, 2010 | Poetry
My sister unknowingly let me in on a secret today. In our family, there are no diminutive nicknames of affection for grandparents and great-grandparents, merely a rollcall of patronyms: Grandma Bersten, Grandma Levine, Grandma...
by phoenix | Apr 6, 2010 | Poetry
I am not entirely certain how any of us make it through unscathed, what with spitting frying pans just out of reach and the temptation of roundabouts reversing cars in driveways epidemics from exotic locales the drunk driver who slams into the rear of...
by phoenix | Dec 13, 2009 | Poetry
Here’s how I imagined it: Take one house, preferably custom-built; add careful wrought-iron fixtures and a wooden spiral stair, ceiling-high bookshelves, a garden filled with lavender and wisteria. Place in a rolling yard backing...