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

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

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

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

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

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

like the name says, we were there together. and it wasn’t long before we had built a fire and stargazing became staring down

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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