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I want these things to have another life, like the old garden behind our house.

Dad was blind until six months ago, when he bumped his head in the fire.

Insomnia! There is a sickly romance to the affliction—initially.

She had not anticipated that the nightstands would be an issue.

Here’s the world, sweetheart. One word as small & large as a father.

I’d make a tub of mud to keep live crabs. I’d refill it daily.

Music that tells of how things stand in the troubled world you now have.

That summer we moved to the house you would die in years later.

It’s been months, and the fields are good for nothing but night talks.

Teams spend days surveying the damage and label me a mess.

I want everything to mean. To have worth and weight. But it doesn’t.

“Why do we always fight,” he finally said, his voice quiet, resigned.

Here is the fat guy whose Chihuahua gnawed through his stomach.

At nineteen you were six-foot-two. At ninety-one you will be two-foot-six.

Nothing stills, nothing stops. The world is still as it was before.

It’s cruel to watch my edges crystallize and reflect light.

Miriam slept at the ranch often, although little sleep happened there.

That what I call my Self is asleep, and has dreamed up these lilacs.

He knew deep down that only her ridiculous optimism kept them going.

“My brother’s last words to me were about you. Did you know that?”

It’s true, I killed my husband. I had my reasons. He was a hunter on the trail.

The Village wasn’t really a village. No walnut trees. Just cut flowers.

The end’s already in motion, the end was starting this whole time.

Goretti was a victim perfect for her time, an icon of Catholic sexual politics.

Fearing for them, I clustered them together, then cut them off.

Today is my favorite kind of day. Night opens, light concedes.

If I had known I would have saved the abacus from the fire.

Having a sister or a friend is like sitting at night in a lighted house.

Relief workers tore swaths of insulation from the rafters of the house.

Doctor Dressler left her a note: Suicide. Back by 7:00. Love, Max.