What is it when to say — sharpshin, a hawk alights...
Monongahela
The Inn
Such a tiny inn, this heart — with its four rooms and thick walls...
nevertheless
we make our lumpy things and marvel...
Turnpike
Pops told me pack light and travel vague...
memoir without preface
...The keys are under the tongue
winter funerary
Rarely will she peel back her sod and say “Come to me”...
The Colding Breeze
...wind don't speak my name, wind don't gust me down...
Hospice
A dark low-shouldered thing followed...
inks
this youth, in a rush for some more beauteous welt...
Dog Squirrel Wire
I call them and they come —
