Joy
Which lives in the throat.Which, silenced, becomes a plum or a firework.Which bugles oxygen into every synapse.Which brings forth daffodils.Which, when confronted with a...
What I do about the nightmares
beforegoing into battle Ibandage my head light campfirespull the covers down no one can predictwhat happens on the plains...
Incomplete Metamorphosis
I am a symptom of a larger paradigm: men who awaken
from a sleep we’ve never fallen into
Some might say we’re born into it,...
Could Have Done Worse
At least, when I gave my children neurodivergence,I also gave them a sunny father andsandy local greens. At least, among allthe...
In the Big Thompson River Valley
My son is twelve and barefoot near the headwaters
of the Rowe Glacier’s summer melt. We’re here.
We lived. Mud cools...
