Author Archives: janishaag

(for Billy Collins, author of the poem,“Taking Off Emily Dickinson’s Clothes,”on the 138th anniversary of her death,May 15, 1886 ) You will want to knowthat she said yes every time,that she undressed him, too—no shy maid, that one—that, no matter … Continue reading →

(for Georgann) You got me in the chair the first time,my feet marinating in a small pondof warm, swirling water. This is gonna change your life,you assured me. Painted toenails? I wondered. The from-the-knees-down massage,you said, and yes, polka dot … Continue reading →

(for Don DeVorss) The man with the donated heart thatpowers him in his second life tells me, Succulents are survivors,and I say, Like you. And he grins, the once-upon-a-timeboy who rode the same bus as I to our rural elementary … Continue reading →

is that none of this has been inflictedupon you so that you’ll learn a lesson or grow a tougher skin or somehowbecome a better human. In fact, if it’d been up to us, we’d have pavedyour path with roses (or … Continue reading →

How often people tell me,You’re so lucky to have your mom,which crosses my mind on Momdays when I pick her upat the house by the lake in her carsince she no longer drives, as I deposit her at variousappointments, run … Continue reading →

The things you learnat a routine physical— how many times your heartexpands and contracts,how pressured it is,fueling your body, how your lungs soundto the man with thestethoscope, and, on a wall chartof the ear, nose and throat,discovering that yourlarynx, closed, … Continue reading →

Spring winds rose this morning,clearing the sky of clouds,snapping branches newly greened. Late in the day I walk amongthe leavings, registering themby name—black walnut, Japanese maple, Douglas fir—sorry that they have been felledso early in their lives. I know this … Continue reading →

(flying home from NYC) Every timeI marvel at the cloud blanketunraveling so far below to reveal the patchesunderneath the underneath—a quilted world stitched with invisiblethread outlining a freshgreen here, a diamond-sparkledrectangle there, studdedwith sun sprinkles. We are so close up … Continue reading →

So many sit on benchessurrounding the circular mosaic,companion spirits to the onewhose spirit certainly circles here— Imagine all the people— the ones who come to sit in the centerfor a photo, the ones who stand onthe almost forty-year-old tiles,his age … Continue reading →

(In memory of Lorraine Hansberry and Eleanor Roosevelt, whoeach lived by Washington Square Park in Greenwich Village) ••• After a week of livingin their neighborhood—albeit as a visitor— I walk by the buildingsthey once called home,the playwright and the first … Continue reading →