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I eat what’s in front of me, as all great men do. Some wouldn’t, but I do.

I found it impossible not to imagine a radiant future for myself.

Poets need to be
in constant touch with the extremes of feeling.

Small valleys and veins give way to a lifted ridge like a rib or an arm bone.

Warm breath in my ear mouthing a name; rivulet folded back in water.

My dear, even my ear is trying to eat itself in its attempt to forget you.

She was gone then, inaudible, steeple-reticent, demure as sky.

He could see I was American, but I thought he was unlikely to harm me.

There is a lot about others I don’t remember, outliving an interest.

It began last spring / Flowers blooming like crazy / No balm to our fear

On a jet stream, unearthly, air can travel at hundreds of miles per hour.

He’s gonna change the way we farm around here. Make it more like India.

Loss. That word echoed in my ears as my eyes ranged around the garden.

I don’t need to consult a healer to feel the aura glowing around us.

Mom often went to work on her days off. The library was her refuge.

The stories of terror continued well after the tsunami had passed.

Owen falls. Like a dummy. Like he’s dead even before he dies.

Eating a raw oyster is like exchanging a soul kiss with the sea.

The danger was my own carelessness, and now I was waist deep in it.

It was the year we learned to wash our hands. That was one lesson.

Even in death, my mother had to make things difficult for me.

Now he was all out of dreams, out of rage, expectations, and money too.

It’d only take a slight shift to realize his new world isn’t a danger to him.

I found a lodestone & I went to the creek & I buried it in the creek bed

My world must not be made of brief encounters along the neat squares.

You must not be afraid of what waits after death, my past self says.

How can we go on believing each day won’t be the one that flames out?

She whispers all these rocks burning up in the sky can’t be a good thing.

I see the garden far away in itself reflected in the polished spade.

A field. No clouds. Tall grasses bend toward the foreground.