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  • from “A Summer Day”

    . . . I lead the prayers, alb flapping,
    helping to lay the body to rest,
    and, as the family lingers,
    quietly walk away, down the hill
    to another grave I remember from before.

    It was winter then, and the oak was bare,
    and the one we buried was a boy.
    “I keep thinking he’ll be cold,”
    the father said. “He’ll need his coat.”

    But it’s summer now, and the farmers
    are haying in their yellow fields.
    The dust of the harvest is softening the air.
    And as I stand at the marker, looking out,
    a feeling starts to come over me,
    a kind of peace . . .

    read more under "Poems"

    image, "Place," by Denise Ross

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The Next Thing Always Belongs

My new book of poems, The Next Thing Always Belongs, will be published this fall by Airlie Press. “This collection brims with the mysteries, the epiphanies, of startling, compelling juxtaposition and coexistence. Minor key, major key, dissonance, harmony: in these pages, we hear the odd, audible question; we’re blessed with the longed-for answer.  Chris Anderson’s … Continue reading


A Recent Homily

In one of his poems the Polish poet Czeslaw Milosz asks God to come to him in some visible form. To bend the grasses like the wind in a field. To make the arm of a statue move in church. “I am only a man,” he says. “I need visible signs. / I tire easily, … Continue reading


Faith and Writing

    Anyone who has any authentic inner experience knows that God is only beauty, mercy and total embrace, and nothing but beauty, mercy, and total embrace.  The only people who don’t know that are those who have never sought God’s face.  In my experience there is an almost complete correlation between the degree of emphasis … Continue reading


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