Shadow Remains

Shadow remains the bones of us, the gray and pitted snows of us, piled on the north of us. Thus evading the burgeoning rain and bloom, shadow remains deep into June – and soon reveals the stain of us. As if imploring the weather’s remove, to soothe the rigid and impure smooth, a mock of […]

Conversion on the Little Patuxent

I crouch makeshift above the eddy, crude, temporary, dingy, reeking of brushed pollen and storm drains. I drink from the creek because it’s savage, take the runoff in my palms because it’s savage, rinse and chew the unnamed roots because they taste of celery and toxin. Not once did it kill me. But there, above […]

Ode to the Candles

Hold fast, slender sentinels! Hold sway against the night! As for eons you’ve defied the baying terror, lit the papers and quills, jaundiced the livering killers in cups, flickered on worry, grief and joy. A sick child may never see the sun, but your staunch and standing tear has led the way home. Tallow, beeswax, […]

The Whole World Gathers

She hates mushrooms, says they smell like dirt and grow on shit and darkness. She hates green beans because her thumbs still ache from seven summers snapping tips. She hates kale because she don’t wanna chew for days and her jaw clicks. She loves onions and garlic – the baseline of everything going right. She […]

The Owls

This morning, the owls spoke Vietnamese. I am not speaking metaphorically, I’m telling you categorically, The owls spoke – Vietnamese. The air was a’crisp, crickets and toads hushed for this foreign refrain – repeated, coded over the course of a butt, over the breathy hum of fans drying grain. As far as what was divulged, […]

Dark-eyed Junco – a Homecoming

Seasons turn the birds, long gaggles in the slipstream, deny this place and habits, when Canadian airs slump down, heavy in the jets. Pelican pouches gone, black tipped twirling thermal swirlings gone. Stilt legged herons, still, balanced on a single bone like prophesy, a blue note scribbled on the margin of things. Egrets, orange-beaked and […]

September

Mist on this September morn, undressed in eyes once long, too young to winter this curled surly age. Surely once upon this September morn, before the chronic drains, now long, domestic, a smudge remains. Would that I deny these slender pulled waters, Would that I tender these misting points, that tamp low grounds and river […]