Did you read a lot about transcendentalism in high school? I did. Thoreau, Emerson, Krakauer’s Chris McCandless story, but why? Was it a warning about living a life of “quiet desperation,” or were all of these trascendentalists, in fact, also men leading lives of quiet desperation, even in their silent reverie?

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I first learned the word facade/façade in middle school. We were learning about French art and architecture. The teacher put a slide of a church on the overhead projector, one of those crude, cumbersome machines with sheer printouts. She explained that the church had a false front or a façade. I remember thnking to myself (I wasn’t vocal in my younger and more vulnerable years) “why not make something through and through? Why put up a facade?”

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A Sunday Poem: Sheets


Sometimes I have a dream that I’m laughing

on white sheets in midday

in the room I grew up in

with the sun striping every shadow from your face

you pull my leg over your hip

and I say, “how romantic”

We both know the meaning

of white and light

kissing without tongues

laughing without jokes

dreams start and end like men

out of haze into haze

starting life without a shadow on your face

ending life under the cover of sheets


Refreshing Lemon Pie


Today I am visiting my grandmother in Chesapeake, Virginia. A county whose welcome sign ought to read, “Population: Questionable.” My grandparents moved to Virginia from New jersey over 40 years ago so that my grandfather could work for a chemical company to make bug spray. My grandfather widowed my grandma when she was 35.

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