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
To my great-grandfather
Did you know how much Mom loved you? Looked to you, her compass. Wanted to hug
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Mother’s Memory
[My mother is warm— the lilies bloom & she breathes, poisoned and sun-drunk.] Even the glaciers
Burnished Sky
Fire is westburns through tangerine cloudseggplant streaks of cloudscallstretchgrasplast fragments of day. South AfricaBrazilhere I come.
