Dinner with Friends
June 20, 2013

It’s so beautiful in the yard right now ...

June 18, 2013

O give me a room in a hotel ...

Time Ghazal
June 17, 2013

There is fire in the beginning—without it, we thought, we could not see one another ...

June 13, 2013

We needed a running stream but we had our sins ...

Scavenging to Feast
June 12, 2013

I knew a girl in a tartan skirt and a plaid shirt; you can’t...

Why We Bird
June 11, 2013

Nightjars fly to the junipers and pines...

June 10, 2013

When hun walks, I walk. When he...

June 05, 2013

Maybe love really does mean the submission of power...

A Late September Afternoon in the Office of the Birches
June 04, 2013

Sometimes, a squirrel like a thoughtagitates through the leaves.Scrabbling up the papery barkof a birch tree, almost free.When I close my eyes,the cool moss on the rockagainst my cheek feels like a memoryI can’t recall—ice cream? peaches?Sometimes, the wind delivers.But there are no messages.A gash of blue quartzveins a boulder in the clearing,pulses, fixed.One characteristic of light: it reaches.Sometimes, the wind sloughs into readiness,silent upon the strings of the birches,and like the deer I raise my head.

White Fur
May 28, 2013

In the town of my childhood, little of note ever happenedso when the albino deer was found drowned in the slough having been driven onto the punky ice by dogs,the game warden brought the dead beast to the school. I might have been seven or maybe six