Poetry

Snowing Desert

Six months            later Sandra was found Murdered in a                  ditch. Lying With the blood Leaves. Scattered                        dirt Of Oregon. Four of us            fucking A cheap motel on The limes            of Van Buren.            Then we Switched. Sandra slips On the wet            tile Floor. These flakes Melt…

Elsewhere

for Chris Benfey Before sleep last night I lay there in a reverie over L.A., and dreamt of it all night and put off getting up for fear it would go away. All my fears of flying dissipated at the thought of cruising in the air to Los Angeles. I was happy there. I said…

Strong Stars

Mottled grouse peck      up gizzard stones            before the first snow— seasons move on      as if the human heart were not            infinitely fragile. The sow bear's stained snout lifts,      sniffs the wind, then bows            to claws raking in stems, berries, rasping leaves.      A twelve-year-old, pleased, tells her aunt            I kissed a boy…

Portrait, Age Seven

It's not the wave that will devour you, arms and braids and all. Not even the stranger you won't look at in the shiny car. Not the topography of deserts, where you follow streambeds through the night, gobbling up the stars like sugar, ready to break the moon in half. Not even the mountain that…