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This pain is so familiar
(we were all children once)
I let it ride my back. I offer it in,

My work tries to show that good art can be found in many a dark corner. It just has to be discovered, played with, nurtured, and appreciated.

Visitors fortunate enough to have seen “The Moon Has No Home” were introduced to a striking new perspective on an art form that has enthralled interested viewers since the 1854 opening of Japan to the West. The show’s very title hints at...

Life’s on the wire;
The rest is waiting. I know
I’m alive when I

The stones are grown over with moss,
canker-eaten, illegible even to the sun

Cursing, I slam down the receiver and run out of the house, shout for Bro. He stands by his car still parked on the street. Arms folded, he turns to me, a stocky young man with black hair and a heavy mustache. He wears a leather jacket and...

The poems I have chosen to memorize over the years answer to an odd mixture of social occasions and opportunities. When asked to perform a poem at nonacademic parties, I have found Lewis Carroll’s “Jabberwocky,” not among the poems Harold...