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By the time I looked over my shoulder, the sun had already fallen.

After the reveal, no one could unsee my affiliation.

The horse had been beaten and flies crawled on the beat marks.

The almanac tells them when the moon passes into ghost weather.

He sits hiked up, naked to the waist, like a stone in the bedclothes.

Human language, Winston thought, was not adequate for spiritual union.

History howls for direction so I remind him how the hero was lost.

Certainly the ushers who pass the baskets know me as a miser.

The preacher looked me in the eye. He laid his hand on my chest.

Alone but one year sober and my parole’s nearly done.

I want to focus on bears. On knowing them, and on what they need.

Marie was therefore exiled, as it were, like Cordelia in the old play.

“We see you tryin’ to hide. Ain’t no use tryin’ to hide in God’s House.”

Have two children to keep around the house in case one goes missing.

Tongue, eye, nose—which has the shortest route to the brain, heart?

I can see on him how things are changing for and against us.

She can go to Bible study every Sunday and swear she’s still not convinced.

She did not leave him for the sailor. So why should he be angry?

All over the planet people try to end pain: striptease, bee stings.

A father peeled the night / from another midnight & begged / me to lie

For me, Selweh was the real magic. She was nothing like my mother.

How much simpler and more satisfying was the company of men.

The tree was shaggy and it bore scars of shrapnel from the war.

The chocolate was old, dusty white, the way chocolate gets after many years.

On my way to the airport I hit a Christian. This was in Arkansas.

The stones here carry the island’s low cry inside them. A landlocked grief.

All night the insects’ grinding jaws chewed through the darkness.

He tuned the future backward as he left the ringing water to reclaim me.

He said he had come back to the prison because it was home.

…when you walk to the edge of the Mekong and make a wish…