Yes—alone, I could stop for anything.
Fossil bed at a river’s wrist. Hello
aoudad on Blue Mountain, javelina
gnawing cactus. Stinky the cat hiding
in a closet. Every bee takes an hour
and that hour is the bee’s. Vultures braid through
the sky against the mountain. I under-
stand now, how one could come to doubt words here.
I learn a few names of people to call
friends. We pause in the dark, silent, looking
towards a light at …
Between sagebrush and the lichened rocks,
a covey of quail employ themselves.
Light disperses in the spray, and a seal
ducks under again. Home for them.
Swell and curl, the untrained wave
In Belgrade in my hotel room
I return to the self portraits
from the earlier work:
smoking in the tub
while reading
texts on the New Art Practice.
When I step …
Trucks shuffle in the slow lane.
Mt. Shasta’s a crazy white cone.
I drive as fast as I dare.
Car my shelter, my tiny house
of spiders’ nests and trash. …
The 5, the 101, the 10
Suavecito for President
A funeral procession out of City Terrace
No ICE on the overpass
Just a shot on the countertop
Next to hot …
When I love another person, after I close the circle I say, “I know that things are not always all the way one way.” This is an idealized tenderness. That …
rain is wetter, colder, alley cats are hungrier, each day breaking open like a crow-barred lock, the sky a grainy screen, the windy corners, and each night, heavy husbands shut out …
The rain was righteous and godless, and when together, in a room during such rain, our concerns took on the disposition of a purse full of shattered glass. How is a person …
It’s not the gemstones or fossils Sold to tourists and museums Says Sherpa Lhamu of Dingboche. Not even Dalh Baht that keeps us Nepalese nimble like mountain goats. The West …
but only I could see them. Others saw a bank of clouds on the horizon, potential rain. I saw the Cascade Range, my mother’s face face toward them, lit by …
