up and down hills like rustic bread we keep the elixir safe
(First published in Bones.)
weather the weather
though my eyes blur in this light there is a
certain after-cataclysm path that
feels as though you were walking upstairs
but maybe I’m not explaining it right
it’s like now that sex is out of fashion
how do you explain movies from the 80s
but let me stop you right there before I
need to write a ticket though you are my friend
sometimes there’s nothing human you can do
the white sky mo(u)rning a single bird across
the courtyard bricks for a new pyramid
so where can you go how can you
think after they refuse to be
born it
won’t help
steer this weary ox from
the prized flowers won’t re
construct the squirrel’s bones
but then I will cover my many nipples with my many thumbs and the dance will go on
of course this you is a piece of black paper
(First published in Bones.)
an untouched toy under the ice
what thread dropped after
the cicada passed
or what mist started
to build in the part
of the story where
your eyes blur and your
feet grow clammy on
the earth of fresh graves
at the end of the day there is little appetite for making music still we feel we must take a chance and ask who would make shoes that are so uncomfortable
red the dog barks at sunset clouds but not forever
(First published in Under the Basho.)
other animals 