The night opens on itself, with atmospherics Consistent with the dream space, shining On mountaintops that ring the field of inquiry Like a jutting frame, an uneven canvas That rescues pigments, streaking bits Of ether, flotsam, untidy remnants Looking for form, meaning and destination Along the cirrus periphery that takes …

In the dream the earth seems to awaken, then uncover A form, a buried memory, half-forgotten theatrics And endless pages of notes and lines of memory Then the tail-end of a night’s lament turning in on itself And me, now on my knees, reduced to tears, and carrying The remains…

The current, brutal Russian invasion of Ukraine sent me back to a presentation I gave before a subcommittee of the Foreign Relations Committee on ways to assist Russia after the formal breakup of the Soviet Union in December 1991. Senator Joseph Biden headed that committee. The date of my speech…

The current, brutal Russian invasion of Ukraine sent me back to a presentation I gave before a subcommittee of the Foreign Relations Committee on ways to assist Russia after the formal breakup of the Soviet Union in December 1991. Senator Joseph Biden headed that committee. The date of my speech…

I had just finished a final draft of a war novel, “When War Becomes Us,” when Russia invaded Ukraine and turned the world map upside down. Russia has been accurately labeled a criminal, pariah nation and much of the West has shut Russia out. Ukraine has responded heroically and intelligently…

The title of this piece is from Yevgeni Yevtushenko’s poem “Babi Yar,” commemorating the murder of thousands of Jews by the Nazis in 1941 and the lack of a monument erected in their honor. This was in Kyiv, now under assault by Russian troops. In the poem Yevtushenko seems to…

For a number of reasons, I was drawn recently to a Zoom program on “Motherhood” at the C.G. Jung Foundation in New York City. With two children and five grandchildren I have learned a little about what women give up on giving birth. The lesson becomes clearer as I age…

. Desi McCullagh, Oct. 15, 1940 — Jan. 21, 2014 . My mother left for Dublin Right before the London Blitz To give birth to her son, Adding with understatement “Jerry almost got me first.” The conductor told them To get on the floor, as German fighters Chased the London-Liverpool …