The store could be in Nova Scotia, it doesn't open unless someone's there. Across the far field the moon is waning, a bright bird still sings in the dark, a car is in the ditch. The car has lain there for almost 20 years. Across the field from my cousin Harold's there was a house…
Consider that I have loved you for forty-nine years, that I have loved you since childhood despite the storms that have wasted my life. . . . I have loved you, I love you and will continue to love you, and I am sixty-one years old, I know the world and have no illusions. —Hector…
A tidal river. Small planes all day, low across islands, sliding over spruce ridges. Took his canoe after two beers, said he was going clamming. Divers in wetsuits, standing around. The state cop reports the tide was all wrong, nowhere near right to go clamming. Where floodtide churns at the Narrows,…
Complete lack of peace, so same dust which is only as some consistency to the moon's rule over and through the night trees. Here, eat this flower as you might eat a stranger, stem and all and road given to going crazily between peace and hatred for agreement, water slight against slight road, the door…
On my knees in the dark I looked out the front door of my parents' house and across the street saw an identical stoop, the porthole glass wreathed in pine boughs with a flat red bow. I knew if I crossed the street and entered, taking living room, stairwell and landing in reverse, I'd end…
I From the Harborview hospital window the city seemed a predictable plaything. Component pieces of this high-rise map left me chilly and bored. Two masked men bent over my bed. With cave-dwellers' eyes they squinted, and cursed the imperfection on white skin— a trail led cross-grained to my mood-swings. With bandages wrapped, the blood burst…
I died when I gave her the rose, hadn't ever felt so gravely dead. Warren—the brother— resented me, tore the rose (or so she said). The house of the dead is a mile long with candles: the moon is out but they don't talk about the moon. The marble I named doug has been dead…
Locked in bathrooms for hours, daydreaming in kitchens as they leaned their elbows into the shells of lemons, they were humming, they were humming Hully Gully. Summer lasted a long time; porch geraniums rocked the grandmothers to sleep as night slugged in, moon riding the sky like a drop of oil on water. Then down…
The middle of something is hardest to hold—this not knowing. Under the snow and rain, the forsythia is fat with bloom. A sign? After the officer reported those unidentified remains weren’t yours, I had to say something; I had to sit down and write a letter you wouldn’t read. I told you it took six…
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