Year: 2026

I’ve tended to these ember-laden forests. This form belongs to this land, and has lived in its fires from birth. My skin, no longer a mere scorched vessel, but a home, open and vulnerable against the sky. The rains are coming. I can smell the sweetness … Continue Reading

Restless, mourning for my dying friend, I hear a vixen in the night. Her rasping screams scratch the air until she’s answered by the male. Across white fields, red foxes trot and cry while I drift into sleep. They pass beneath my window and hurl love n … Continue Reading

feed the cat where you sleep, where you eat, where you fuck. where you pray. it doesn’t matter. cat food dust in your orthopedic gloves. cat food dust on your pillow, in your lungs. you tried to fake your death twice three times and came back home. tur … Continue Reading

The most beautiful thing I had ever seen Was the angels rising up Grabbing hold, tightly of branches and twigs of hope. Rushing by, sometimes at lightening speed Gone, in the flash of a gun shot. We sit or stand, banded together on mountains of weight … Continue Reading

Rain waters my garden I watered last evening: cucumbers, tomatoes, garlic my wife will put up, the rest from a farm north of here where I made a goat-gate and fixed a trough the horses knocked down. We make a life, try to make it last. Make a book, a p … Continue Reading

My grandfather rushes toward me as I squeeze the accordion of memory, my music filled with him and that swing he hung in the live oak tree, its rough canvas seat trained on the rolling swells of the steel-grey blue Pacific. I’m a pendulum, carving a lo … Continue Reading