I wrote novels, then poetry, late in my career. Up to then, my focus was on short stories. I produced one after another for about nine years until finally, one found a home. It took another seven or eight years before I was regularly publishing them, and my first collection…

Poetry is a visual expression, even when it’s about politics, or feminism, or how nasty people can be. In poems, words evoke both what we feel and see. This is important to me, I’d say even crucial. …

Meeting Moira for coffee is like getting my teeth cleaned. I know it’s going to hurt, I think of reasons not to go, then go anyway. For the dentist, there’s an appointment, and it looms on my calendar. Moira doesn’t make appointments. She texts and demands my presence. She tends…

The summer people choked the road, filled up the taverns, trashed the beachfront, and parked everywhere and anywhere, even in places they shouldn’t. Moss’s father was on the city council and had tried, unsuccessfully, to find funding to build a lot so driveways wouldn’t get blocked. The idea of a…

It’s like this, Sara says. Joel has a bad day, someone gives him shit at work, a customer is a freak about the service warranty, you know, something like that, and he’s hurting, all wrung-out, so I take over dinner and dishes and let him sit and chill. He gets…