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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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

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

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

leeks bursting seedpods, equinox of our summer, moon becoming full.

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