here is the sky in stop motion, flickering, a still shot in monochrome
My grandmother asked, “Does it feel like being widowed?”
love is a soggy tea stain on a grocery receipt
I count my homes— those of my scattered youth the sanctuary of our young family the intermittent rest stops of apartments and vacations.
Should have found a job by now; should have slept in the night; should have boiled old coffee before noon.
my friends’ fathers are dropping I mean dying like flies
you know that baby swallows make silver ripples in wild rivers to court reeds?
I don’t know why I’m in the garden kneeling on dirt
Millions of Americans have been affected by identity theft. It’s probably the greenhouse gases.
It recommended soft porn, as gentle prodding and petting parent to parent might calm and soothe the kid.
Even from this distance I could go out the door it would bang shut and crumble
I have observed, the theorist I am
this is what I want you to to see: leaves falling because it is too late for them not to
Okay, picture this: We’re in an elevator. The elevator shuts down. It doesn’t matter where we’re going, only that we’re alone.
Do not say anything anybody else has said ever. Things are not “bleached by sun.”
I buy too much, for someone of my stature. could pawn a skinny metaphor to purchase a plump skin. its reputed in our lineage— to daydream a life that shreds our pockets.
I’msorry I‘ll see what happens iLife
the strands of your hair on the bathroom tiles aren’t sketching defeat. that’s you spitting disease in the face with another day you’ve woken up to.
You are strange, my mother said, dwelling on the past.
Now that the Israeli has left, it falls on me to make the salad.