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Deathexpand_moreThe boys came down out of the woods and crossed toward the dock.
My students are in rows, alive—day-picked apples cut by teeth.
I was always being left behind in the mud, a bandage around my eyes.
Tomorrow I’ll be ratted out about the hunting, but I knew it’d be worth it.
The alert says Warning: Wild Exotic Animals Loose.
When I was born I saw death devour the birth of something.
Like a bird with a broken wing I will smudge the line of the hopscotch.
What would you say about the driver of the truck that killed you?
Last year alone, every American choked to death on a red balloon.
On the swings in the park, a woman sounds an off-key minor chord.
Redemption is a broken bar on a cage. Loss is a sky of stars.
On the other side of Paris an exhibit depicts their home, which is nowhere.
A week later, I said to a friend: I don’t think I could ever write about it.
Beggars know to emerge when you’ve more than enough to give.
He’d reenlisted in ’64; he would not go home until the War was won.
Grief is a rude houseguest. She stays up late. She leaves messes.
This so far is a haunting, the bleeding heart we used to hear about.
In a job like that you see the dirty work of Empire at close quarters.
The only person I’d seen naked was my mother the night she died.
Since the accident she lost her hold on the world and never got it back.
The grass is always greener in the cemetery, was a joke I made to Jed.
The band was amateur at best. It didn’t matter. People loved them.
He hadn’t meant to hurt her. Drowning people will do anything for air.
In the closet: a single hair draped from the one hanger left.
Whales are very big (I saw one on a beach once) but trash is way bigger.
Her will is resolute, and he knows enough not to challenge it.
You’ll find me here in the peach orchard, the most I can muster.
I dream of watching my grandfather stagger home through the snow.
We’re all trying, in our own ways, to parse what we may have done wrong.
The clown has taken a seat at our veranda table in absolute silence.
