Explore

In New York

It’s raining concrete. I bite my grief wetly. Who will test these chains?

In Search of Inner Mongolia

“I want to stay in real yurts,” I said, “not yurts for Westerners.”

In the Absence of Rain

Blacked-out little angel, you shuffle home under the streetlights.

In the Guise of Couplets

Every room came furnished half-real & dead like mirrors on skin

In the Land of Many Enemies

Bad luck, like the white-scabs disease, can infect others.

In the Shadow of the Glen

It’s other things than the like of you would make a person afeard.

In the Water

It lay slumped where they’d dragged it, a fright of an animal.

Incident with Nature, Late

I decide it’s as good a place as any to stop, pant & smell the roses—

Independence Day and Other Poems

The old-timer outside the guard station was knifing his own tires.

Innocence and Other Poems

Phaethon thought he could drive the sun but was struck down to earth.

Inside a Lateness, a Singing under Snow

Under pillows of snow, the creek shushes the sharp architecture of ice.

Intertext

This box is full of wires, energy that moves in ways I can hardly fathom.

Into the After

I wondered if the coyotes and deer were mourning the loss of Steve.

Is It Okay to Be Okay Again?

We know that we were lied to, the disaster was worse than we feared.

Iscariot and Other Poems

Let those shadows sift the spirits of their children from the silt.

It Is Pretty Cold

Whitman may just mean: it is pretty cold, but there’s always colder.

It Might Be a Hurricane Year

she was right—hurricane being the name of the feeling, the twist of it.

It Moves the Same

I could throw one of these rocks at the moon and watch it fall.

It Was Time Again for Bushhogging the Paddock

and there I was five-foot-four and most way old enough to drive

It Was Yoked to a Black Hunger

The raven cocked its black eye, dipped its beak in the red pool.

Jangmi

It was as if we were shedding our very selves to become someone else.

Kicking Bear and Short Bull Give Their Testimony

Charge the ground till it glitters. It was God’s pleading in that rink.

Kinesis with Garden Implements

I want to bring the duality of us together, not spar with language.

King and Other Poems

The irreversible ink stain breaking the face of whatever we skate on.

Ladyboy

we stiletto back to floodlit stages and boy flesh / stripped sequins

Landskein

Instead of attunement, I was given a pair of size 6 Toughskins.

Last Acre

What a noise it must have made long ago. It’s not just me saying this.

Late in the Season

Frank Avery came into the kitchen. In his left hand he carried a .22 pistol.

Late Summer

Tonight’s moon has dropped its shawl. I’m in the yard again, waiting.

Learning the Ancestors’ Tongues and Other Poems

In the republic of pain, we bloom ice bags and crutches on limbs.