Tieton, WA Gunshots pitter in the distance.The cows sing along to their loved ones being put down.Along the service road, the highway, any undomesticated piece of land,the sage puffs up and out, reaching — who can make a little tree of themselvesbefore we’re all burned down? I rely on the wind. It’s blowing the valley’sinsects at my body. Not an… Read more →
I would read a story about a fox who has a very small fox floating over its head. It’s unclear whether or not the larger fox is aware of the smaller one. Or if one has manifested the other. The fox (large) raids nests for eggs that are too large for the fox (small) to consume. In the rain, the… Read more →
I have ruined all of my clouds for the corpse yelllow- yarrowed thunder of hope because nobody loves like an idiot who does not know it is better not to Skorpiony są szkodliwe dla zdrowia zniszczyłem wszystkie moje chmury dla trupa żółto krwawnikowy grzmotu nadzieji przecież nikt nie kocha jak idiota, który nie wie, że jest lepiej żeby nikogo nie… Read more →
I do the work the way You- Tube taught me. Mid-drill, mid-plunge, mid-whack, I re-thumb my password, rewatch my confidence clip, leave nothing to the pros. I am saving myself thousands. I curate a fabulous collection of caulk in the basement. In the attic, four or five mattresses you don’t need to question. I say beautiful for modern and state-… Read more →
In the quarkiest parts of my body baseball is played / never played. I itch all summer to place / never place a hot dog against my tongue, for fireworks to vibrate and explode / never explode and kill / feed the silence of the infinite space above home plate. I smell like stadiums closing. In all my locker rooms,… Read more →
Forever, I asked to not be me, but a place instead. Old cedars, devil’s club– little creek, kneel, drink. No years in the berries, just dusk’s breath of gnats, my Thank You like catkins, deer’s wheeze– here, gone, home again. When one trail ended in fireweed, my saw set down in stems, I sat by the rill and said Here…. Read more →
invisible weaver when asked what I do, invisible weaver. then quickly before “but I see you, don’t I?” I define the occupation. some people’s first image is a wooden loom in a slant-ceiling attic, shuttle skidding warp-weft, shafts synching up down, no human in sight, so a ghost, a spirit, they think I’m jiving. others see a humming fluorescent-bright factory,… Read more →
With a break in the rain we would gather behind our fathers and wheelbarrows to fill potholes. Undersides of leaves gazed up from the trapped rain– gravel raked in kicked ruddy clouds like woodsmoke, pillowing until we shoveled them full, the panes capped. Our gravel came from a two yard pile one of our fathers ordered from the quarry himself…. Read more →
So many parts in one body; no wonder people get confused. The way my mother would bring up old boyfriends in an effort to keep me humble, that is, to keep me hers, the way my Maine Coon calico growls when anyone comes between us, then lunges, then sinks back against me, simultaneously tense and floppy, a wary baby; I’m… Read more →
I go to the park and sit under the sun. Everyone else is in pairs, pealing like bells. As I’m drawing more and more into myself, I’ve noticed the ease it seems people gather, hold hands. I don’t know anymore what the story is that could save me. What to repeat as payment. Behind me, up the hill, men are… Read more →