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She asked, “What’s the weirdest thing you can do with your body?”

How do our lives disappear even while we’re in the midst of them?

His mother wasn’t there to meet him at his stop. She never was.

They are glorious pumpkin-skinned messengers. I hate them.

“We’re not like other species,” you say, a novelist at night.

You’re standing too close to a lit house which could be yours—is it yours?

My soul is simple; it doesn’t think. Something strange paces there now.

I have so many T-cells I’m afraid of forgetting their names.

The poem I can’t yet write saves itself for when it can’t be avoided.

If life was exchanged, who is to say it flowed one way?

With a hammer well aimed, try to destroy the whole with a single blow.

“Leaving for war, Hayes wept. He didn’t just cry; he wept...”

We travel, some of us forever, to seek other states, other lives, other souls.

Help me, please help me, is the beggar’s refrain on the F train today.

Writing to you is like putting a note in a bottle, hoping it will reach Japan.

Again, nature has written a good script. The skunk saga will continue.

A psychologist told me we can train our dreams. I practice each night.

Definitely believe what you hear about the problems with painkillers.

There lay before us a bag that gave forth, at a touch, the jingle of gold.

Buster’s reasons for looking after Marco weren’t entirely altruistic.

I slept but never dreamed there. Nor did I feel the need to court a god.

I want to sleep in a bed next to a man who won’t dream of me all night.

Kansas is a cold dessert, I say. No, Kansas is a tongue depressor, he says.

God was surrounding the chair, leaves flourishing from a sickly tree.

I try to believe that even when cords are cut or people die we connect.

insomniacs gesturing in a cave of neon light the narrative of their lives

It wasn’t clear if there was an outside world to our outside world.

After you have read all you possibly can there may be a few lines left.

Not all his children love themselves. Look at little Adrienne.

My “lonelymaking.” Also known as my horrible secret, continent-wide.