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It has its life, returning always to the ocean. It doesn’t care.

He tried to regain that moment of grace, but there was no conjuring it.

Our grandmothers were bakers and nurses, spies and traitors.

I thought how she must thrash with savage agility when she made love.

The year we left the reservation a white boy gave me a trash bag.

Havana, Cuba, on the inevitable cusp of change. A photo gallery.

Some people are so beautiful, they belong everywhere they go.

In the photograph we look nearly the same. Heft and hewn.

Hemingway’s Royal typewriter sat atop a volume of Who’s Who.

I have placed my thoughts for you in a nest of copper shavings.

We were assigned straight to the lion’s muzzle, the Sardasht front.

I know what it means to be born in one life and meant for another.

What is greater: the distance between these bodies, or their need?

The judge’s mother was impossible; her mere presence was infuriating.

Any white man without a servant was presumed to be in need of help.

We were aiming for a complete transformation of society.

Claim to be Choctaw or Cherokee. Claim to be a princess too.

He was a child. He was dead. He was the shaft of a Long-tailed Astrapia.

I was free. The first step had been taken, and it was irrevocable.

She looked at him with sorrow, and surprise, despite all the news.

Protect your hands. You can always get by if your hands aren’t broken.

I shouldn’t have to say why the confederate flag is a symbol of hate.

On the small of my daughter’s back is a two-inch tattoo. MADE IN CHINA.

The excursion brought shape to that entire scruff-covered summer.

Oh, how did people do it? How did they find some way to be happy?

Make haste, my love, I am redrawing the scale of escape.

The ashes of a human being are not ash. The body burns into wood.

“I want to stay in real yurts,” I said, “not yurts for Westerners.”