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What did he say, coming out of that cave
After a hundred forty days, and the world
Still skipping past the stars, the sun

The tall Fijian spears a giant turtle
And hurls him down upon the foaming breakers;

My theme is one of revolution, inspired not merely by the vast changes that have so radically altered the condition of man within our lifetime or by the recent phenomenon of militant intellectuals engaged in revolt on all of the continents...

First the prisoner and his interrogation. Of my final mission into their territory, more later. Beyond our village the highway crosses a narrow bridge of concrete, and then in a gorge of stone goes north. 

The 2015 VQR Writers’ Conference takes place August 12–16 in Charlottesville, Virginia. Designed for serious writers at all stages of their careers, the conference also includes panels and readings that are open to the public—featuring...

We have known such joy as a child knows.
My sons, in whom everything rests,
know that there were those who were deeply
in love, 

I’m in a phone booth in Saratoga Springs.
The water tastes awful, but very helpful.
You aren’t answering, whatever I’m asking.

The first wife floats in memory calmly
who formerly was storm-tossed, who gave
at the edges a whitewash to those rocks

of myself, begging your pardon, as a young man,
quick to draw arms, quick
to take a fence for daggers toward my
heart,