POETRY

“Poetry is language at its most distilled and most powerful.”
—Rita Dove
Black Ghosts of Ponderosa on a Silhouette of Hill

Even as the sun warms the concrete
the long nights’ sensual cold lingers in my clothes.

Pit Stop in Kansas

we drove on through
the blue seal of morning as the turbines
turned and winked out their hearts

REVENGE SCENE

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.

oh Manifesto

The collective
failure
of ethical standards

My Multiverses

It is the 70s. 1970s? 2570s? Who knows?
Audre and I have a penthouse in New York.

Unerased | Steep Steps

My grandmother asked, “Does it feel like being widowed?”

The State School 1984 His Given Name Was Wilbur  We Called Him Magpie

Mostly he ate what was put on his plate
snuck coffee grounds or dirt for a snack
Once a zipper Unzipped

There is an alternative universe

Ghosts for hire, whispers in her mouth,
cysts to feel, the symmetry of a gift.

Letter To a Young Poet

Do not say anything anybody else has said ever. Things are not “bleached by sun.”

woman at bar
After She Told Me You Pushed Her Down the Stairs

Empty vessels
make the most sound, I think,
as you rip the fairy lights off the handrail.

Making Israeli Salad

Now that the Israeli has left, it falls
on me to make the salad.

heavy rain
The Plot

Long after midnight, we’re talking about our first time

Like dirt

this is what I want you to to see:
leaves falling because it is too late for them not to

I Garden at the Edge of Autumn

There is so little left of the tomato plants.

Soft Porn and Cuban Pine

It recommended
soft porn, as gentle prodding and petting parent
to parent might calm and soothe the kid.

An Endeavor of Being Now

We stop doing dishes while
a mile unwinds
from the tree outside.

Time Travel

I count my homes—
those of my scattered youth
the sanctuary of our young family
the intermittent rest stops
of apartments and vacations.

robertson quay

how does an afternoon turn
on its axis?

All In

I don’t
know why
I’m in the garden
kneeling on dirt