The Dead Snake is on the Street in Front of the Blakes’ House
My fear of snakes, what I suppose a clinician would call my “ophidiophobia,” began in the
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Hurricane
I always wanted one good story. One good story that I would eventually tell at Thanksgiving
Dorothea, Two Blocks Away
Walking like a crippled ghost, I only saw her from behind. I wanted to write crippled
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Catalogue as landscape
if, when the wife is sleepingthe air hangs above herfull of particles in a sun-driven dance,setting
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Stumbling
Empty stomachEmpty staresStumbling down the flight of stairsHate to relieve this painHate to see what I’ve
You Bought a Chair
It’s still in its box. The box is on the rug in your tiny living room.
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Sycamore Trees
They sat together every day, holding hands shooting the breeze. Sitting under sycamore trees. They talked