Four Years of Days
For seven years, on four of seven days I walked or biked or rode the subway to her real wood paneling and sat at first then lay so that my eyes were free to ride the airy currents of … Read More
For seven years, on four of seven days I walked or biked or rode the subway to her real wood paneling and sat at first then lay so that my eyes were free to ride the airy currents of … Read More
I came into being unknown to myself, a small sac of seawater and soft bones. Time and memory had no meaning for me. Weightless hunger spidered with blood, I was alive. Then I wasn’t. And when I fell out … Read More
A small space opens inside Tennessee, perennial-ready. At the last moment I manage to stay by the window, looking further. Whose body is that being sent back to ground? And how terrible to hear it speak fluent silent. I … Read More
(for Seamus Heaney) With a two-handed grip, plunging the steel wand deep, there and again over there–the root web, he explains, as broad as the dogwood’s crown, feeding the underworld so we here might… all in good time….Nutrients … Read More
Lately, I feel the days fly out into the dark trees and vanish. Without you whose love was air-thin and particular, I’m left these daughter-hands of bone that do me little good, arms fit for nothing but wandering vast … Read More
trackless by moonlight, we squeeze through the white pinch of birch, crowning owls with antlers. a flock of ochre follows us to the lake where we pool our toes in nomad sand. our ponytails stream in the breathing wind. … Read More
I was a patriot when I drank. Hours at the bar primed me to storm the beachfronts, throw bottles into intersections, lay siege to frozen food aisles. I wanted a toy republic with flags and my own stool at … Read More
There is a sphere defined– not by the city’s finite fencing that holds the dead in (as if mixing the traffic on macadam with the bone trust underfoot would undo us both, bring souls careening to life and the … Read More