March 1, 2021
The Judas Ear
I invited the apostle to my stir-fry dinner by accident. I shook into my smoking wok a packet of dried wood ear mushrooms — the ones I’d bought from a farmers’ market. […]
March 1, 2021
Pigeon Slippers
A silent film’s where Prada gets the headband idea from maybe — now everyone’s temples are draped. Thinking their penny thoughts. If you can call it an idea. An idea is […]
March 1, 2021
from
Such were the figures most amply adorning the coverlet that lay the whole width of the couch, veiled and encompassed it. — Catullus 64
March 1, 2021
Dilemma
• • The horse has two minds. The first is uncreated — water in an empty bucket. The second, like a sphere is to a circle. A bucket that the water […]
March 1, 2021
The Spring Cricket Observes Valentine’s Day
Twenty-four hours dedicated to the heart and the heart in question a caricature of something that never existed: half a butterfly squeezing out of a lace-trimmed corset, a fantasy floozy, […]
March 1, 2021
Bouquet
Tell the sky — quit stealing you away. Above, storm clouds only threaten & will not stay. The sun finds us like fear, or family, fills the stomach & asks to […]
May 1, 2019
Indigo Bunting Madrigal
Riddling like lovers the garden’s lower sward, campestral half-acre — alfafa, wheat, weed-tops repentant with seed in heat mercurial — these cambering notes, volant, fleet, strop & weave. Sky in my mouth, watching […]
May 1, 2019
Climate Is Something Different
This was a heron, and the oddly effortless but dense wedge its body made across the sky, and more odd for being unfamiliar, landing on the puddled roof of the […]
May 1, 2019
White Rhino
The last of my kind, one of the last lovers of flowers and the lawns of the northern grasses, and certainly one of the few able to rub backsides with […]
May 1, 2019
Raspberry Patch
Summer is in and under and all around each leaf and thorny cane and every weed and stalk of foxtail woven among them, as if this were a tank brim […]
May 1, 2019
Nightingale of America
for Sally Hemings We both traveled an ocean, were transformed, blossom become nightingale. Homesick — singing songs of transatlantic lamentation from Parisian streets to le Dolomiti. In nature, we are small brown […]
May 1, 2019
Ire
It’s got to be somewhere your anger and like the moon though very far away still leaves an impression, is apt to hover by the bedroom window a child stares […]