Olive Green

Inside, I hang my coat on a peg. Outside, the sky restores itself…

These Winter Nights

One gets used to it, the cold, how brittle things are…

When I left this place, this place took my ankles, my body…

…the streetlights signal sunrise like a fine wedge of geese…

Wandering, it carries us weightless to our trains…

it’s easiest to dream / when the breakwater breaks / and the tide rushes in

What spills over the dam is not water…

waterworks from a mad engineer
a god jumbled fountain…