A Center

If others call you a maniac or a fool, just let them wag their tongues.

A Few Delicate Needles

It’s so delicate, the light. And there’s so little of it. The dark is huge.

A Good Woman Blues

You will be a broke blues man with only some story of how you were.

A Happy Birthday

I wanted to ride this day down into night, to smooth the unreadable page.

A New Year’s Gift

He ended every year in this manner, writing and dreaming.

A Small Hotel

The allure of Mardi Gras is to feel this way: unseen and unseeable.

A Walkabout in Andrew Wyeth’s Painting and Other Poems

My bike, my skinny body, my pent breath was thrown to the grass.


However hard you try to make amends, they will still condemn you.


I’m mourning in the armpits of a lover we once called a family friend.

All My Friends Are Sad & Bright

We’ve seen the news. We know the story. How even our bodies hurt us.

All the Wrecks I’ve Crawled Out Of

I was thinking sex, she was thinking sex, but neither of us made a move.

An Abstract of My Research

For one hundred years I followed old people to learn what I was in for.

An Hour Ago

In the morning light, I could hear Bashō hard at work.

An Instance of Love

We have harvested nothing more than the stench of middle age.

Arpeggio Progression in Missing Key and Other Poems

do you asks pretty sue know what I love what pretty please tell us

At Sea

I only feel that here, only here, in this one place, a small rise.

At the Center of the Sailing World

Suddenly, all of the past seemed now like the same endless race.

At the Sunoco in West Virginia

He doesn’t notice the cop car rolling slow-motion into the station.

Badger Mountain

Keely finally stops crying when they step outside. The shock of cold.


I lost my medicine bag from back when I believed in magic.


How’s everything? It’s been forever! Things with me are pretty good.

Best Advice

Writing is a subversive activity that exempts you from the rules.

Betty of Lilyfield

A collection from San Franciscan photographers Eszter and David.


The old dog of inertia gets up with a growl and shrinks out of the way.

Bildungsroman, 1999

Vultures liked to perch on the austere ledge outside my window.

Bishop’s Lace Grows Rampant

He phones from across the country after lying in the grass with another.

Bluebonnet Swamp

A queen bobcat lives in the hollow base of a dead cypress.

Bruegel-Hunters in the Snow and Other Poems

I fell asleep wondering to whom the tree might have been writing.

Byron the Lyron

Byron’s mother read things to him: Language is fun. Play. Let’s play.


No one tells you what it sounds like out in the streets when bullets clang.