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Natureexpand_moreIf life was exchanged, who is to say it flowed one way?
All the bears in the zoo look pathetic. Their eyes glazed, bodies lethargic.
A sociopathic streak on my father’s side I try to put to good use.
Salt provokes, tenderizes. Your wounds, your dinner.
I saw a bat in a dream and then later that week I saw a real bat.
I know which home takes the turning, which mind washes in hot water.
I awakened on my belly—my back a raw field from nape to heels.
My own hunger was for a reduction in the vast space between people.
My own hunger was for a reduction in the vast space between people.
My mother’s house was packed, painted, put up for sale—sold.
Bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees, and fill all fruit with ripeness.
Now he chuckles with the sea, stitched within its timeless jive.
I love scientists. They’re trying their hardest. And they just want love.
I should call my loves while I can to listen to the grackles croak.
The dove calls from far away in itself to the hush of the morning
Again, nature has written a good script. The skunk saga will continue.
The strange man expected to be picked up by aliens during the eclipse.
A psychologist told me we can train our dreams. I practice each night.
A dead body leaned sideways against a wall. Its eyes were open.
Who needs driftwood when I can bury myself in your loamy soil.
It’s the roll-up-your-sleeves hour, when you have to make a living.
You can stand on the edge and tremble with fear or risk your life.
What will we do without exile, and a long night that stares at the water?
Just because we have birds inside us, we don’t have to be cages.
I want to sleep in a bed next to a man who won’t dream of me all night.
It wasn’t clear if there was an outside world to our outside world.
The angel lay in his body effervescent as a flake of alabaster.
Not all his children love themselves. Look at little Adrienne.
I never felt heart stop or skin burn, just the first split second of sound.
I feel them slice me open and tug, then I smell my own innards burning.
