Tag Archives: The Fish Are Laughing

How I Wrote “My Late Mother as a Ruffed Grouse”

In the early 1990s, I wrote my first poems on a whim one weekend at a Zen monastery in the western Catskills. At the time I lived in Manhattan with my wife, worked at a small environmental magazine, and didn’t … Continue reading

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“A Million Distant Glittering Catastrophes”

How easily we forget. Gathered on a porch on Wheeler Hill in western New York, we introduced ourselves as FootHills poets from near and far, with Danny Kerwick from New Orleans having come the farthest. After I mentioned my two … Continue reading

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