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Letter from Mexico

The talk was heady, but the conversations were dead-ends.

Letter to El Mateo

My first girl, only sixteen year and she go, she run away to you.

Letters to a Young Writer

Not a single environmentalist holds out much hope for the future.

Lewisburg and Other Poems

Desire whittled me a tool I’d never seen but knew how to use.

Light and Shadow

There was something that eluded me, that was always outside the frame.

Like Hearing Your Name Called in a Language You Don’t Understand

Since the day the bell was cast I have sat in the bishop’s carved chair and waited my turn.

Little Road

There is still the same reaching of the tongue for that pink ridge.

Little Selves

She closed her mind to all familiar shapes and strained back.

Local Color

Their breath rose in small clouds. Their flag rippled above them.

Love among the Stacks

The library is inhabited by spirits that come out of the pages at night.

Mackintosh

His eyes rested on the trees. By George, it’s like the garden of Eden.

Mama’s House

In the Nablus apartment she remembers rolling hills of citrus.

Marantha

Today was the first day of her new life, and she was on an adventure.

Marshall Willoughby’s World

Marshall and Mrs. Checchi, it seemed, had this philosophy in common.

Mastering English

If you play, decide three things: the rules, stakes, and quitting time.

Merry Elf

They’d developed Santa’s entire system, had written the code.

Mestra as Translator

The summer Victor died, his dad spoke to no one but the canaries he kept.

Midnight Cowboy Always Makes Her Cry

That Hawaiian shirt is the first thing Ratso’s owned that he hasn’t stolen.

Migrant

Sit beside me. Old country, I am hopeful and troubadour.

Milagros

I became a symbol of freedom, a miracle who had escaped the Devil.

Mimesis

If you tear down the web it will simply know this isn’t a place to call home.

Mirza

Third Place

Miss Me Forever

He is not in the position to lose a friend. Not when one is all he has.

Montage with Pittsburgh, Jack Gilbert, and My Korean-Born Son

I read that poem twice, didn’t I? I must have wanted to hear it again.

Mother in the Trenches

With a world full of foolishly dangerous men, what’s a mother to do?

Mother of Hope

Most people come to Africa because they are drawn to its misery.

My Daughter and God

My wife had time to form a thought: I have killed my daughter.

My Dinner Chez Monsieur Paul

Dining at Bocuse wasn’t about food, but about pleasure in all its forms.

Naming

I sensed that a name defined who I was and would be in the future.

Narcissus

Let me tell you stories about lands far from here where you are absent.