A scatter of crows came to me / and I could not refuse them

Days I can’t feel you, I dive my body / into the deep end, pluck golden leaves / from the silty bottom, nearly drown

The shoebill pesters its mother for a drink, says David Attenborough.

I can’t write about breasts without thinking of damselflies stinging the surface of water.

My father / carried me often like a dead deer // on his shoulders up the stairs to bed, / my arms and legs gripped before his body, // my fallen neck bobbing

The book of Ezekiel opens / with a windstorm.

I drank the creek water until my eyes, until my eyes were prayers too.

I’m on the moon / your favorite place, how encouraged you were I left / my safety stars

I’d always wanted this, I just didn’t know / to give it a / name.

Every Sunday, I practice saying no in three languages.

The Complete Correspondence (1979) My dear, It’s downpouring. From here inside I can’t stop thinking about the trickle of people outside. Cold hands and feet under control. Only vague news, you …

The Complete Correspondence (1979) My dear, It’s downpouring. From here inside I can’t stop thinking about the trickle of people outside. Cold hands and feet under control. Only vague news, you …

we can all agree / no jobs for clouds / unconscious drifters

I get a haircut and scrub the stove, feeling unpeeled / from the old terror.

On my swallowed stone, I painted the weather inside a zebra stripe.

Could I not want / the justice and / the sentence and / the jail of a goal?

though I do // look pretty good / slung over // where a pair // of hot pink / fuzzy dice // used to hang—

Take this cryptic correspondence as – a sound bite skirts my wonder.

But come on, even Eve ate a dead baby dino. / Adam was still munching on his apples like a dweeb.

only the two rocks holding each other know / where they find balance.