the truck is gone. the truck is scrap. (just that one half of the bumper, just that license plate from Big… everything else is gone.

After close, the image loosens until it is just being held together.

everyone sees the red-torn deer ca… the mess made dragging her to be shouldered, everyone gawks and shifts the weight of

refreshing to know there’s still n… that’s unsure of its footing. love that’s unsure of what to do a… standing in the truck head-light g… feeling small

the best strawberry is the smallest, not-in-the-garden strawberry that grows between and beneath the grass and tallgrass

when you get started and you don’t… start digging slowly and softly, move things around. i turned over a rock

A stone in the lake old as water. Older than any question. Older than dirt and more stubborn. Round.

the Aurora roared above us and in sweeping, arcing curves mimicked the path of the luge.

something feels as though it is at unease because it has not settled.

Truck sounds like metal on metal– grinding coughing hard–

some metal piece out of place disturbs everything and suddenly i’m windbound on a calm night. left to my own devices,

Fish fry in Benoit. Joyce brings a hundred dollars in cod and beer almost right to your mouth and you wonder if it’s

before you go, things left undone. loose ends, too many to tie so quickly.

it is March now. winter hangs on while spring looks on waiting.

we held the dream between our holding hands. we held our hands in the warmth of my coat pocket