1991
Vestibuled, my feet leave prints in pewter-toned dust— cindered ash and scratchcard foils— my nostrils sense […]
Confession, Declaration
start over again. start over again. END OF the ACT. END OF the ACT. END OF
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Watching the Classic Air Show with Dad
Dad opens a second pair of aviators and hands them to me in a silent paternal
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Elevated Alchemy
Relax, be comfortable. You are among friends. Close your eyes, but open your ears, for this
Shapes Do Not Exist Without Shadows
I. The wind and trees are writing ballads for Sunday’s disquietude. I think of Cat Stevens
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St. Paul
Paul walked through the neighborhood of small, wood frame houses in the early morning light.
Reaching For Mother
Laura sits on the back porch steps, waiting in the dark after dinner
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