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Poems

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  • Feasts for the Blind | My Dear Menshevik

    That year it rained crows. Birds fell out of the sky in midflight.

  • Lyre

    Because it hangs from the center of the sky,

  • Lapse

    I am not deceived, I do not think it is still summer. I

  • On Clitocybe Nuda | On Oysters

    Peak of autumn’s deepening yellow

  • The Lord Is a Man of War | Far Desert Region | The Day-Shift Sleeps, | [Does the war want

    The Lord is a man of war

  • This Surface

    Of the earth,

  • December, First Frost

    A small green house sits beside the highway, fading into maple shade.

  • Albatross

    Driving toward

  • Essay: Domestic

    Brassiere

  • SOUL-DARK second version | SLEEP second version

    At the forest’s edge: a dark deer. A hush.

  • True West

    We return by foot from pre-plantation oaks,

  • Better Than Heaven

    So many set asides, you say, intemperate