We drove around all day in search of something baked. We drove around all day to drop something off that we would miss to the point of sickness. We drove around all day if only to neglect the sunset. Meanwhile, inside the hill, a mall of cadavers calls us silly for thinking it wouldn’t come— the end of things, the… Read more →
I have seen the silhouettes that bring me heavens, I have seen my torso, in hours of torn, ripple laden with captivity, rent with cries and the sky’s white sheet drying in the wind, weeping, a splash of oceans gone by, reeds, and rains reciting an archery of wounds. The twinned nights. In one I cry, in one I… Read more →
Black-lemon orbs floating on the canvas, clouds suggesting nothing, the way this man on the corner returns a cigarette to his lips before entering the diner, and a bus speeds past in billowing smoke. Or maybe the stars are translations. Lines caper and fall: blue stethoscope tubing, moon within a moon. Valley, steeple, houses: here even trees and shrubs are… Read more →
Faith is something I hold in the reliquary of my mouth, rolling it with my tongue, mindful of its potsherd frailty, certain instead of concrete memories of the bear, vivid despite the space of years nested away like field mice within the ossature of time, or rather what was a bear but now hung flensed and naked beneath the pale… Read more →
Appear through the window atop a ridge painted with glass like stars twice their size others live in differing sounds. The trees shake, heavy and bearable releasing all their frugal light green leaves blotted with ovary ashes resting upon pale faces. The wall is a home of stars.
This is about how our father dealt with a chicken-killing dog. No way could she hide from him. He saw red feathers dangling from her black lips and found the plump body stashed behind the woodpile. He whistled, Some enchanted evening, you will meet a stranger, while uncoiling the twine, and with infinite gentleness, he tied the limp hen around… Read more →
My mother didn’t go outside for a year. Under the wide ceiling sky, each step was a climb up Mt. Everest. The bag on her walker carried all travel necessities: phone, pouch of unscented tissues, lipstick, maybe a bottle of water. Unlike me and unlike earlier, she didn’t hanker for the street or its tributaries. Sometimes a hint of longing… Read more →
In the stories, my prayer is the lost darkness of language. In the darkness, the moon carries her heavy belly across the sky before settling back in the home we share. In our home we are always found wanting. Wanting, we sing the songs our mothers taught us to remember we have no mothers. No woman wants to be made… Read more →
All these false endings. Nothing can (what’s a body, what’s a body to break up on): rocks, story of the buckeye butterfly’s eternal detail–I broke my abacus toting up your every spot dash & line darling.
Coordinated invasion “hold her head” Send you flowers on the eve of your departure The superior view sunders the walls that were You: what rules is lure of earth.