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

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

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

sit in a tunnel fall at the northernmost point trip around the sun.

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

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

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

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

jump in the truck, and disappear in moments measured in rust, that flakes off in the friction of…

Truck sounds like metal on metal– grinding coughing hard–

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

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

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

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

tension stretching strings of muscle in the dirt warmth next to wildflowers, my feet stepping in prayers.