Mist hangs in the airlike extinguished lighting bugs might, blotting out the future, or…
I’d like to thinkthe whole worldmoves toward meat least onceeach day —
And now is the timeI wish to leave — like a pup snatched up by the nape of its neck — a rapturous…
The dark trees sighunder fading moon beams.
In the heavy silence of asummer night on the porch our sacraments are the…
That look you wearon your face must have beencreased into your skin when you were young.
We do not knowwhat makes a happy life.
The clouds this evening are heartbreaking, slowly moving toward their separation.
On summer morningsthe windows are sweating watercolor paintings of the neighborhood…
