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(In this poem I’m addressing Albert Camus. In doing so I’m confessing a huge debt, unfathomable wonder and an instinct for rebellion.) You found me, twenty and cracked open, too alive to die, too numb to live. Your pages spoke like cigarette smoke curling from the mouth of God. You said the world was blank, […]

Two voices. One remembers the smoke. One names the fire. Together, they refuse to forget. ASH IN THE SHAPE OF FAITH I. The Smell of Smoke I was ten when a Sunday school teacher told me the dinosaurs were God’s mistake: too big, too strange, not mentioned in Genesis. We laughed, but quietly. Even as […]