Fish fry in Benoit. Joyce brings a hundred dollars in… almost right to your mouth and you wonder if it’s just too easy

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

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

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

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

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

Truck sounds like metal on metal– grinding coughing hard–

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

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

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

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

the still rising sun calls to you to rise; early morning dawn light brings you to a particular log and leaves you there,

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

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