for Diane 1. Dance, she said. She said, Dance. It is crazy, I know, how quickly I’ve learned to love this dancing, this step-step across the floor when I’d spent my whole life without any music. I had promised never to dance in the white way if I didn’t dance in the Indian way first…
My brother, my son, they’re setting jack posts, stringing wire in high wind. I come after, pounding staples in good pine wood. We follow the edge of the jack pine where the foothill opens out to long drop after drop of tough grass sliding down the Front Range. We know it’s a fine day, a…
“Can’t go on,” sighed the heart taking leave of its mind and throwing itself at the sun. Ninety-three million miles in no time. Past the mad gas of the solar corona shot that hunk of red meat meteoric—straight through the sun’s bubble to the wild interior, the fusion place. Its molecules spat up their ghosts….
The house was a forest remembering itself. The pine trees that held up the walls dreamed of stars dwelling in their needles. Jointed, branched, rooted, the trees still listened to the wind. The oak floors gleamed from the generations of human oils, but they still grew into their immense lineage of light and matter. The…
Magpie calls bounce off the brittle branches flaring off the mountain’s dark. One’s wing just flew across the branch tips. Just the banner of himself he drew across. His darkness cast a kind of laugh against the brilliance of the icy bark. I remember iced branches out our window fifteen, sixteen years ago an ocean…
I’ve been looking at Kilauea and its various eruptive features for a few years now, and, every time I do it, I really never know what it is I’ll be looking at, looking for, remembering, or comparing it to. It’s kind of like daydreaming, gazing at the birth-stem of all things….
Now it happened in the twelfth month that James and Crowbar visited Renah, James’s sister. They were there to never lift a hand. Just their fork expecting something on it. The two men drove from Nail, Arkansas, along Highway 16 to Red Star, where Renah had her cabin nearly built into the hills. Her goats…
If Earth is one of seven ancient wandering stars, where is that girl who, every afternoon, runs water into a basin of hollow scales? Surely not in the vertical crowds, among colonizers and women passing in shallow hats. Nor riding with the plutonium makers, without hair or explanations, whose buckles glow in…
You could not call it an actual crucifixion, Doctor Hébert thought, because it was not actually a cross. Only a pole, or a log, rather, with the bark still on it and scars on the bark toward the top, from the chain that had dragged it to this place, undoubtedly. A foot or eighteen inches…
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