Cosmic Lull

The old lives gain Reach forward into my days of mind   Their voices crawl Unrushed but sure Recognizable as fingernail On wood   Dormant lessons swell like a full lung Breath-held with the grasping Of days unlived Brandished in offering   My story One more layer of mud Etched unto geologic time    


The Way of Smallness

I never had a crush on any of my high school or college professors. There is no writer that I’ve dreamt of stalking. Deep down, J.M. Coetzee’s thin, tragic eyes give me the chills, and Jeffrey Sachs’s boyish, world-saving smile is just too pure. But, I’ve always had a thing for New York Times columnist David Brooks. […]


How It Sounds

  I was quite surprised last Sunday when a few readers wrote me asking how the mantra I posted that day is supposed to sound.  So, I did something I normally avoid at all costs, sing out loud. Here is a recording of me saying the mantra. I learned it to a lovely rhythm, which […]