Poetry
Grief, oranges
Never again will you do this: / peel an orange, its rind coming away / in ragged, cloth-lined cups. The globe beneath the skin / mapped out with white degrees of longitude....
Kelly Block Fire
A man is cuffed to a / wooden ladder. His body / transfixed as if the old / hag is sitting on his chest. He / cannot run or act. A piano...
ode to ee
i dream of / ee / / pygmy / stylist / / lord of / small holdings / / he with / swift feet / / lilliputian /...
The Knowing Animals
In a wood stirring with elk blood and rorid air, / the invisibles were all ears: all lays and hoofprints. / / I heard one miles deep — / a bugle from...
Camp 4
No sign of life, not a bird, not a plant. / Only lichens / clothing the sharp stones with grey. / / A patch as big as a penny / can...
Kill Site
The tufts of grey fur lie on the spruce-lined path / like a taxidermist’s slough, an afterlife in the works. / Look closer and you’ll see shards of ivory bone, / bits...
e before i
I set out to find Glenn Gould’s gravesite. / Row 1088, Plot 1050. Nowhere near the rose garden. / / I wanted to see those notes. The Goldberg Variations. / Inscribed....
Girl, Walking
Ah you, bright you, / breaking day open like a dry loaf / and setting off through the billowing sky / that wafts across your mind / / like shantung...
Winter Archive
Tonight, steel mesh of constellations and a die-cut moon. Flames in the northern sky / and sirens — another fire in an old hotel. Every hour on the hour you wake and listen /...