Poetry
He Who Laughs
Laughter from the right / Follows laughter / From the left. / / In the deep of the night / This is no laughing / Matter. / / Early morning...
The Last Death
It had all happened before. The coffee cup / with the old ship, steaming on the windowsill. / Their hand-holding at dusk, coyotes barking / in the forest. This was the transfiguration,...
Moth
Every few days another moth appears. / I hear them rattling between the window / and rice paper taped across the glass / to hinder the curiosity of addicts. These large...
Queen Charlotte is a Horse 1
Thing is we’re growing / old together, that mare and I. / Our bodies are mutually lumped and scarred, / we sag where we used to billow.2 I outnumber her / in...
this is why I write
so at times when my / ...
Advice for the Living
Who will offer advice to the living? / / There are those who write in fanciful script: / they mistake surface meaning / for...
Dream of a Drive Long Ago
From the back seat / of a sedan, / not long flat fields, / tree lines, / farmhouses, daughters / but the ditch / / before the fields / I...
Emily is loved
Emily Carr sells some paintings, buys a luxury item radio. / Static like ruckling, a grater pulled over a piece of satin. / Let’s say it’s a nutmeg grater, and we know...
Coverlet
Listed in the inventory as / “Gold and peach silk velour / purchased 1983.” / / No mention that the pattern / fuzzily matches the bedside lamps — / florals and putti...