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Do you want me to show you where the dog licked me in the dream? But now that the dream's over the act's invisible, like water flashing its image only when it moves in the stream bed. My cousin took me to the loft of the barn. We walked to the back then he pointed…

When you died, I fell in love. I have fallen into something dark where every time I open my eyes I am picking you up at the train station, 1965. It might please you to know you are alive here, even if you never saw this place. I keep a nice home, learned from your…

In the still-blistering late afternoon, like currying a horse the rake circled the meadow, the cut grass ridging behind it. This summer, if the weather held, he'd risk a second harvest after years of reinvesting, leaving fallow. These fields were why he farmed— he walked the fenceline like a man in love. The animals were…

It was an old river town and then the river moved away. Happens all the time: the river decides it doesn't like living next to people, there's a flood upstream and the river takes its chance. The problem with this is that some people who lived on the river are now seriously grieved. They do…

fell early this morning, long before we awoke so that by the time we had dressed, had coffee, there was no trace of it anywhere. All afternoon, I couldn't put my finger on what was missing. You said it was probably nothing or only me distorting the facts again. But in my usual way I…

I catch this glimpse of you wheeling your shopping cart along our empty street I see your nakedness And stepping from my car with my briefcase, wanting to catch you before you disappear in the doorway, I also express our odd jobs fighting the vacancy, and the solitude.

There's no moon and it's a curse, my heart beating slow like a bad accident. We're searching for Bill's bird dog in the reeds and it might as well be bones I part with my hand, bending over the long pale grass my eyes aching like thin tails of light the dory lamps leave on…

Ignoring your poor prognosis, we set grief aside and at dusk behind the Met climbed slowly towards the obelisk where, resting a while, we might in time's pinched frame lavishly survey spring's blossoming. You were so eager for smell— nose in the first bloom at hand— like the hummingbird with his shrewd apparatus you drank…

The Capitol dims and gives itself to snow, and the trees turn their white necks away. Couples loom, pause, and lose themselves to words, long love, turning to each other. Lately, I've been losing you in weather, not pretty thimble domes but lack and need We try to reconstruct the scene, the park, then snow…