Goodbye Blackbird

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  I had this ridiculous pang of nostalgia for Italian bureaucracy so I got a cheap flight to Genoa and then a taxi to the Municipal Hall in Corso Torino where, with satisfaction, I joined a queue, a long queue. … Read More

How to Partner a Runner

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  You will never know what he thinks about while he runs, as music muffles the city’s roar of evening, yawn of morning. As he smells burnt leaves in autumn, spring petrichor, the river in summer. You cannot imagine the … Read More

from The Pink Series

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  Pink Blossom Born in full bloom I grew along the feminine arc— pink diminishment & pink despair pinched back & pedestaled thin into air but even the invisible could see no man no thing lived resolute as me.   … Read More

Broken Fridge

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  For three weeks the fridge has been whining like a dog. It must be the freezer fan, or the compressor: either way, it’s screwed. I have three months left to live in this country. No job, no old home … Read More

from Crown Decline

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    5. The door of the big red shed hides nothing, And this isn’t because the shed is empty. In the season of fertility dugites hibernating, The door of the big red shed hides nothing And then splendid fairy … Read More

Day Cycle

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  Morning—it’s burning in my thighs already, and I climb a steep green crest then let my burden carry me on down its slope, this summer when I’ll have no rest. Northern Colorado, somewhere between Windsor and Loveland, wind fractions … Read More

Anniversary

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  The outcomes of our love lie in their bed, sleep-tangled and yeast-warm from the guitar. The stars overwhelm their dome, the mangroves drip their branches down into roots and thus over years walk the earth. You & I have … Read More

Six

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  In the dream You don’t share Your number Or have you And have I Forgotten Who you are So I trouble Every door And some open Upon couples caught Red-handed Others remain Adamantly Secured The eternal Hotel requires Masks … Read More

Birth Mother’s Second Baby

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  Two-and-a-half years later, she buried my premature sister. Poor mother lives in two worlds of letting go and letting go, of one she can find and another she can’t.

Mercenary

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  Propped on an assault shotgun gun my liquor gun my grass-fed cold-smoked ribeye   I drink single-batch bourbon how sudden is my skull tell me   (after Archilochus)

Breughel’s Procession to Calvary

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  And when they were come to the place, which is called Calvary, there they crucified him. —Luke 23:33   Diffuse light, no real season. Soldiers everywhere, an occupying army. A leveling goes on, a minutely figural confusion. The central … Read More

Liar, Liar

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  I was another story.   Nothing awarded with ribbons or scrapbooks, nothing to please the eye.   I grew but never did I thrive.   Instead I was stealth and envy, all what if ? and why not?   … Read More

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