Middle Age
Suddenly this hunger.The yard’s river
birch finally empties itselfof summer’s grief
when the night’s crescentmoon swallows
a small piece of the pallidred sky.
Before the fall,regret is...
Listen
Joy found in the absenceall about us.
Nothing singedand everything easy.
Harvest pumpkinsglow burnt orange,
smoldered yellow.A cat comes
offeringin its mouth a songbird
pink as greasejust after the...
Fragmentation Grenade: The Violence of Hybridity
With thanks to Nomi Stone
Nomi and I come together on hybridity — a form, a site, where disparate elements...
Dispersal
a symposium of seedsclimbs on the gustsshaking the cypressesand satellite dishes,land to be flattenedby a work boot.skitter, sciurine,to a patch of dirt. it is...
Getting Older
My father used to say, when I asked about
his younger days, that he didn’t remember.
I find myself using the same words.
The laundress hands...
