Beard of rotten barley, hands of mottled clay. Writer and recycling enthusiast in the Pacific Northwest, United States.
Maria,
I have long owned a penchant for indulgence,a tendency to excessmade manifest in the pale…
This is the placewhere I told a beautiful bookseller I loved her-and a block away she would break my heart,holding a 24oz…
I have been thinking of that big cedar in the neighbor’s yard.The enormous one, bigger…
Made by moon, this message,wide awake on a silver night.I could find a thousand names for what disquiets mebut only one…
You shrieked as the shower turned cold(I had warned you, Maria!).Myself still sour and oilyI wrapped you in the only…