Posts

Crumpled

I cannot keep you crumpled like a poem in my chest pocket you, who will not fold even to my hand’s pressure

Bridge

the bridge over an empty riverbed… my mother offers advice

Portage

old portage path a chipmunk peeps out from the fox’s skull

Counting Cars

counting cars as the train rolls past a stranger’s wave

blackbird song

blackbird song as far as the road goes between the hills

Noon Rush

noon rush... the spray of river water on hot concrete