Saturday April 23, 2011
a brief
a brief but furious
a brief and furious moment
when the sound matched the sin.
Saturday February 20, 2010
i am thrown two hours to be profound but i spend them waking up. for the last seven days, my windshield has bent mountains. whole canyons, miles of tree lines, snow drifts-pushed into each other, compressed, distorted, discarded by a cruel tectonics of glass, sunlight, drive.
Friday July 24, 2009
what isn’t is unless less is plenty and time is just yesterday.
street, #3
Thursday July 23, 2009
morning light settles on her
like pollen. the driveway now empty,
the dog lost, the children drawing on the street,
the river swelling, swelling up Main, forgetting its place,
until the whole fucking world is delivered.
children, #2
Wednesday June 3, 2009
when you were 4,
fear no longer kept you
from the water’s line. you dug
your feet in firmly, as if stepping
on a leash. but the ocean
would not be beached. it reared,
bared its frothy teeth, and broke
upon you.
you laughing,
laughing.
