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Poems

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  • The Last Few Feet

    And so the thyme fell and spilled a neat pile

  • Trouble

    And so it took shape, & from what.

  • Bailed Out

    And once we climbed over the wire fence

  • It’s 3 A.M., Winter, and Nine Miles from Truckee

    and nobody better than I to tell you about

  • Acne

    And I’d see it that way, the word, all

  • In Which the Sea Rakes at My Window and Seemingly Unlike Me

    and I wake rattled, as if to resist a long fall

  • JOURNAL, OR STORY WITHOUT WORDS

    And I follow the hand copying what it had written years ago

  • Posthumous Cabin

    And got away to it, and left the work to others

  • On Psalm 91 and Maestro Says

    And daily, I read:

  • Seventh Circle

    And after the fight the moment of awakening

  • And

    And

  • Sack

    Ancient river bed hacked and carved whittled deep